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THE 

PLEASURES 



OF 



IMAGINATION. 



BY 



MARK AKENSIDE, M.D. 



A NEW EDITION, 



TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 

A CRITICAL ESSAY ON THE POEM, 

BY MRS. BARBAULD* 



LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR T. CADELL, AND W. DAVIES > 
IN THE STRAND, 

By W. Flint, Old Bailey. 

1806. 



TR3312, 



G 



_5 



ESSAY 



AKENSXDE's POEM 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 



DIDACTIC, or preceptive Poetry, seems to inw 
elude a solecism, for the end of Poetry is to please, 
and of Didactic precept the object is instruction. 
It is, however,, a species of Poetry which has been 
cultivated from the earliest stages of society ; at 
first, probably, for the simple purpose of retaining, 
by means of the regularity of measure, and the 
charms of harmony, the precepts of agricultural 
wisdom, and the aphorisms of economical experi- 
ence. When Poetry came to be cultivated for it* 



2 ON AKEtfSIDE'S 

own sake, it was natural to esteem the Didactic, as 
in that view it certainly is, as a species of inferior 
merit compared with those which are more peculi- 
arly the work of the imagination ; and accordingly . 
in the more splendid era of our own Poetry it has 
been much less cultivated than many others. After- 
wards,, when Poetry was become an art, and the 
more obvious sources of description and adventure 
were in some measure exhausted, the Didactic was 
resorted to y as affording that novelty and variety 
which began to be the great desideratum in works of 
fancy. This species of writing is likewise favoured by 
the diffusion of knowledge, by which many subjects 
become proper for general reading, which in a less 
informed state of society would have savoured of 
pedantry and abstruse speculation. For poetry can- 
not descend to teach the elements of any art or 
science, or confine itself to that regular arrange- 
ment and clear brevity which suits the communica- 
tion of unknown truths. In fact, the Muse would 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 3- 

make a very indifferent school-mistress. Whoever 
therefore reads a Didactic Poem ought to come to 
it with a previous knowledge of his subject 3 and 
whoever writes one, ought to suppose such a know- 
ledge in his readers. If he is obliged to explain 
technical terms, to refer continually to critical 
notes, and to follow a system step by step with the 
patient exactness of a teacher, his Poem, however 
laboured, will be a bad Poem. His office is rather 
to throw a lustre on such prominent parts of his 
system as are most susceptible of poetical ornament, 
and to kindle the enthusiasm of those feelings which 
the truths he is conversant with are fitted to inspire. 
In that beautiful Poem, the Essay on Man, the 
system of the author, if in reality he had any system, 
is little attended to, but those passages which 
breathe the love of Virtue are read with delight, and 
fix themselves on the memory. Where the reader 
has this previous knowledge of the subject, which 

we have mentioned as necessary, the art of th« 
B % 



4 ON AKENSIDt'Sf 

Poet becomes itself a source of pleasure, and some- 
times in proportion to the remoteness of the subject 
forms the more obvious province of Poetry; we are 
delighted to find with how much dexterity the artist 
of verse can avoid a technical term, how neatly he 
can turn an uncouth word, and with how much 
grace embellish a scientific idea. Who does not 
admire the infinite art with which Dr. Darwin 
has described the machine of Sir Richard Ark- 
wright ? His verse is a piece of mechanism a» 
complete in its kind as that which he describes. 
Allured perhaps too much by this artificial species 
of excellence, and by the hopes of novelty, hardly 
any branch of knowledge has been so abstruse, or 
so barren of delight as not to have afforded a 
subject to the Didactic Poet. Even the loath- 
someness of disease, and the dry maxims of medical 
knowledge, have been decorated with the charms of 
poetry. Many of these pieces, however, owe all 
their entertainment to frequent digressions. Where 



PLEASURES OJT IMAGINATION. f 

these arise naturally out of the subject, as th< 
description of a sheep-shearing feast in Dyer, or the 
praises of Italy in the Georgics, they are not only 
allowable but graceful ; but if forced, as is the story 
of Orpheus and Eurydice in the same Poem, 
they can be considered in no other light than that of 
beautiful monsters, and injure the piece they are 
meant to adorn. The subject of a Didactic Poem 
therefore ought to be such as is in itself attractive to 
the man of taste, for otherwise, all attempts to maka 
it so by adventitious ornaments, will be but like 
loading with jewels and drapery a figure originally 
defective and ill made. 

Of all ike subjects which have engaged the atten* 
tion of Didactic Poets, there is not perhaps a hap* 
pier than that made choice of by Akensi.de, The 
Pleasures of Imagination, in which every step of 
the disquisition calls up objects of the most attractive 
kind, and Fancy is made as it were to hold a mirror 
to her own charms. Imagination is tho very souics 



6 ON akenside's 

and well-head of Poetry, and nothing forced or 
foreign to the Muse could easily flow from such a 
subject. Accordingly we see that the author has 
kept close to his system, and has admitted neither 
episode nor digression : the allegory in the second 
book, which is introduced for the purpose of 
illustrating his theory, being all that can properly 
be called ornament in this whole Poem. It must 
be acknowledged, however, that engaging as his 
subject is to minds prepared to examine it, to the 
generality of readers it must appear dry and ab- 
struse. It is a work which offers us entertainment, 
•but not of that easy kind amidst which the mind 
remains passive, and has nothing to do but to 
receive impressions. Those who have studied the 
metaphysics of mind, and who are accustomed to 
investigate abstract ideas, will read it with a lively 
pleasure; but those who seek mere amusement in 
a Poem, will find many far inferior ones better 
suited to their purpose. The judicious admirer of 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 7 

Akenside will not call people from the fields and 
the highways to partake of his feast ; he will wish 
none to read that are not capable of understanding 
him. 

The ground-work of The Pleasures of Imagination 
is to be found in Addison's Essays on the same 
subject, published in the Spectator. Except in the 
book which treats on Ridicule, and even of that the 
hint is there given, our author follows nearly the 
same track; and he is indebted to them not only 
for the leading thoughts and grand division of his 
subject, but for much of the colouring also : for the 
papers of Addison are wrought up with so much 
elegance of language, and adorned with so many 
beautiful illustrations, that they are equal to the 
most finished Poem. Perhaps the obligations of the 
Poet to the Essay-writer are not sufficiently adverted 
to, the latter being only slightly mentioned in the 
preface to ike Poem. It is not meant, however, to 
insinuate that Akenside had not various other 



$ ©N AKENSIDE*S 

sources of his ideas. He sat down to this work, 
which was published at the early age of three and 
twenty, warm from the schools of ancient philosophy, 
whose spirit he had deeply imbibed, and full of 
enthusiasm for the treasures of Greek and Roman 
literature. The w orks of no author have a more 
classic air than those of our Poet. His hymn to 
the Naiads shows th£ most intimate acquaintance 
with their mythology. Their laws, their arts, their 
liberty, were equally objects of his warm admiration, 
and are frequently referred to in various parts of his 
Poems. He was fond of the Platonic philosophy, 
and mingled with the splendid visions of the Academic 
school, ideas of the fair and beautiful, in morals and 
in taste, gathered from the writings of Shaftes- 
bury, Hutchinson, and others of that stamp, 
who then very much engaged the notice of the public. 
Educated in the university of Edinburgh, he joined 
to his classic literature the keen discriminating 
spirit of metaphy sic inquiry j an:l the taste for moral 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 9 

beauty which has so much distinguished our Northern 
seminaries, and which the celebrity of their pro* 
fessors, and the genius of the place, has never 
failed of communicating to their disciples. Thus 
prepared, by nature with genius, and by education 
with the previous studies and habits of thinking, 
he was peculiarly fitted for writing a philosophical 
Poem* 

The first lines contain the definition of the subject, 
winch he has judiciously varied from his master, 
Addison,, who expressly confines the pleasures of 
imagination to u such as arise from visible objects 
only ;" and divides them into u the primary plea™ 
sures of the imagination, which entirely proceed 
from such objects as are before our eyes, and those 
secondary pleasures of the imagination which How 
from the ideas of visible objects, when the objects 
are not actually before the eye, but are called up 
into our memories, or formed into agreeable visions 
,jpf thirgs that are eidier absent or iictitioas*" This 



10 <JN AKENSIDE'S 

^definition seems to exclude a blind man from any 
share whatever of those pleasures : and yet -who 
Tvould deny that the elegant mind of Blacklock 
was capable of receiving, and even of imparting them. 
in no small degree? Our author, therefore, includes 
every source, by which, through any of our senses or 
perceptions, we receive notices of the world around 
us ; as well as the reflex pleasures derived from the 
imitative arts. 

With what attractive charms this goodly frame 
Of nature touches the consenting hearts 
Of mortal men, and what the pleasing stores 
Which beauteous Imitation thence derives 
To deck the Poet's or the Painter's toil, 
My verse unfolds. 
After this clear and concise definition, and alively 
and appropriate invocation to the powers of Fancy, 
guided by Truth and Liberty, the author begins by 
unfolding the Platonic idea that the universe, with 
all its forms of material beauty, was called into 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 11 

"being from its prototype, existing from all eternity in 
the Divine Mind. The different propensities that 
human beings are born with to various pursuits, are 
enumerated in some very beautiful lines, and those 
are declared to be the most noble which lead a chosen 
few to the love and contemplation of the Supreme 
Beauty, by the love and contemplation of his works. 
The Poet thus immediately, and at the very outset, 
dignifies his theme, by connecting it with the sub- 
limest feelings the human mind is capable of enter- 
staining, feelings without which the various scenes of 
this beautiful universe degenerate into gaudy shows, 
fit to catch the eye of children, but uninteresting 
to the heart and affections ; and those laws and pro- 
perties about which Philosophy busies herself, into a 
bewildering mass of unconnected experiments and 
independent facts. The lines afford more than one 
example of climax, graceful repetition, and richness 
of poetic language. The subject is then branched out 
into the three grand divisions marked by Add is ok, 



12 ON AKENSIDE'f 

the Sublime, the Wonderful, and the Beautiful. 
Each is exemplified with equal judgment and taste, 
but the sublime is perhaps expressed with most 
energy, as it certainly was most congenial to the. 
miud of our author. The passage, of which the 
thought is borrowed from Longijnus, Say uhy zzas 
man so eminently raised, is almost unequalled in, 
grandeur of thought and loftiness of expression, yet 
it has not the appearance, as some other parts of the 
Poem have, of being laboured into excellence, but 
rather of being throw r n oiF at once amidst the swell 
and fervency of a kindled imagination. The iinal 
cause of each of these propensities is happily insi- 
nuated ; of the sense of the sublime, to lead us to 
the contemplation of the Supreme Being ; of that of 
novelty to awaken us to constant activity ; of beauty 
to mark out to us the objects most perfect in their 
kind. Thus does he make Philosophy and Poetry to 
go hand in hand. The exemplification of the love 
«f novel 'y in the audience of the village matron, who 



PLEASURES OF IMAGIN ATIOtf. 1$ 

tells of witching rhymes and evil spirits^ is highly 
wrought. The author, however, had doubtless 
in his mind not only the Essays of Addison^ 
which were immediately under his eye, but that 
- passage in another paper where he represents the 
circle at his landlady's closing their ranks, and 
crowding round the fire at the conclusion of every 
Story of ghosts : Around the beldam all ar red they* 
hang ; Congealed with shivering sighs^ very happily 
expresses the effects of that kind of terror, which 
makes a man shrink into himself, and feel afraid 3 
as it were, to draw a full inspiration. It may b$ 
doubted, however, whether the attraction which is 
felt towards these kind of sensations when they risa 
to terror, can be fairly referred to the love of 
novelty. It seems rather to depend on that charm, 
afterwards touched upon, which is attached to every 
thing that strongly stirs and agitates the mind. la 
his description of Beauty, which is adorned with all 
the graces of the chaster Venus ; the author take* 



14 ON akenside's 

occasion to aim a palpable stroke at the Night 
Thoughts of Dr. W uno, which are here cha- 
racterized by u the ghostly gloom of graves and 
hoary vaults and cloistered cells, by walking with 
spectres through the midnight shade, and attuning 
the dreadful workings of his heart to the accursed 
song of the screaming owl." The same allusion is 
repeated in one of his Odes : 

66 Nor where the boding raven chaunts, 
Nor near the owl's uuhallow'd haunts 

Will she (the Muse) her cares employ;. 
She flies from ruins, and from tombs, 
From Superstition's horrid glooms, 
To day-light and to joy." 
This antipathy is not surprising; for never were 
two Poets more contrasted. Our author had more 
of taste and judgment, Young more of originality. 
Akenside maintains throughout an uniform dignity, 
Young has been characteristically described in a 
late Poem as one in whom 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATIONS t5 

Still gleams and still expires the cloudy day 

Of genuine Poetry. 
The genius of the one was clouded over with the 
deepest glooms of Calvinism, to which system, how- 
ever, he owed some of his most striking beauties. 
The religion of the other, all at least that appears 
of it, and all indeed that could with propriety ap- 
pear in such a Poem 5 is the purest Theism ; liberal, 
cheerful, and sublime; or, if admitting any mixture, 
he seems inclined to tincture it with the mysticism 
of Plato, and the gay fables of ancient mythology. 
The one declaims against infidels, the other against 
monks; the one resembles the Gothic, the other the 
Grecian architecture ; the one has been read with 
deep interest by many who, when they have aban- 
doned the tenets of orthodoxy, can scarcely bear to 
re-peruse him ; the other, dealing more in general 
truths, will always be read with pleasure, though he 
will never make so deep an impression. 

The Poem goes on to trace the connection of beauty 
with truth, by showing that all the beauty we admire 



16 ON AKENSIDE'S 

in vegetable or animal life results from the fitnesa 
of the object to the use for which it is intended, and 
serves as a kind of stamp, set by the Creator to point 
out the health, soundness, and perfection of the 
form in which it resides. This leads him on to 
speak of moral beauty, and tracing the regular gra- 
dations of beauty through colour, shape, symmetry, 
and grace, to its highest character in the expression 
of moral feelings, he breaks out into an animated 
apostrophe, 

Mind, mind alone — the living fountain in itself 
contains 

Of beauteous or sublime. 

The poem continues in a high strain of nobte 
enthusiasm to the end of the book, and concludes 
with an invocation to the genius of ancient Greece, 
with whose philosophy and high sense of liberty he 
was equally enamoured. It is easy for the reader who 
is conversant in the writings of Shaftesbury and 
Hutchinson to perceive how much their elegant 
and fascinating system is adapted to ennoble our 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION 17 

author's subject, and how much the Pleasures of 
Imagination are raised in value and importance by 
building the throne of Virtue so near the bower of 
Beauty. The book is complete in itself; and if 
we may be allowed to hazard a conjecture, contains 
nearly the whole of what the author on the first 
"view might think necessary to his subject. 

The second book opens with a complaint found- 
ed, perhaps, rather in a partiality for the ancients 
than attention to fact, of the disunion in modern 
times of Philosophy and Poetry. To the same clas- 
sic prejudice (to which a good scholar is very prone} 
may be attributed the mention of the courtly com- 
pliments which debased the verse of Tasso ; and 
the superstitious legends which employed the pencil 
of Raphael in contradistinction to the works of 
the ancients, as if, in sober truth, any one was 
prepared to assert that there was less flattery in the 
Augustan age, and less superstition in the idle my- 
thology of Homer and Ovid. Such prejudices 
c i 



18 ON akenside's 

ought to be laid aside with thegradus of the school- 
boy. The Poet proceeds to consider the accession to 
the Pleasures of the Imagination from adventitious 
circumstances, of which he gives various instances ; 
that of the Newtonian theory of the rainbow seems 
too abstruse even for a philosophical Poem; it may 
be doubted whether, if understood, it is of a nature 
to mix well with the pleasure of colours; it cer- 
tainly does not accord well with that of verse. 
The influence of Passion is next considered, and the 
mysterious pleasure which is mixed with the ener- 
gies and emotions of those passions that are in their 
own nature painful. To solve this problem, which 
has been one in all ages, a long allegory is intro- 
duced, which, though wrought up with a good deal 
of the decoration of Poetry 3 is nearly as difficult to 
comprehend as the problem itself. It begins with 
presenting a scene of desolation, where the parched 
adder dies ; this vanishes, and another is presented. 
k What we hoped to have heard from the Poet, we 






PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 19 

are directed to learn from old Harmodius, Haiu 
modius is only introduced to refer us to the Genius ? 
and the Genius shifts his scenes like the pictures of 
a magic lantern, before he explains to us the scope 
and purport of the visions. The figures of Pleasure 
and Virtue are in a good measure copied from the 
choice of Hercules, only that, as Euphrosyne 
is the Goddess of innocent pleasure, every thing 
voluptuous is left out of the picture. The descrip- 
tion of the son of Nemesis is wrought up with 
much strength of colouring. The story is in fact 
the introduction of evil, accounted for by the ne- 
cessity of training the pupil of Providence to the 
love of virtue, the supreme good, by withdrawing 
from him for a while the allurements of pleasure; 
but why his very suffering should be attended with 
pleasure, which was the phenomenon to be ac- 
counted for, is not so clearly made out. We are told 
indeed that the youth is willing to bear the frowns 
of the son of Nemesis in all their horrors, provided 
c % 



20 ON akenside's 

Euphrosyne will bless him with her smiles, that 
is to say. he is willing to be miserable provided he 
may be happy at the same time. Upon this Eu- 
phrosyne appears, and declares that she will al- 
ways be present for the future, whenever, supported 
by Virtue, he sustains a combat with Pain. So far 
indeed we may gather from this representation, that 
pleasure is always annexed to the exercise of our 
moral feelings, which is probably the true account 
of the matter: but this truth is rather darkened than 
illustrated by the fable, which does not satisfactorily 
explain how the connection is produced. The alle- 
gory is not very consistent in another place, where 
we are told that Virtue had left the youth, while at 
the same time sweetest innocence illumed his bashful 
eyes. He had already fallen, and yet he had not 
lost his innocence; the storm of wrath which falls 
upon him is therefore unaccounted for. Upon the 
whole, though this allegory is in many parts ingeni- 
ous, and is laboured into splendid poetry, we fear it 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 21 

has the effect upon most readers which it seems it 
had upon the author himself, who tells us that 

Awhile he stood 
Perplex'd and giddy. 

It may be doubted whether this discussion is 
strictly within the bounds of the subject, the Plea- 
sures of Imagination ; since the instances given are 
not confined to scenic representation, but refer to 
the primary feelings of the passions,. What has 
imagination to do with 

The bitter shower 
Which sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave ? 

The book concludes with an animated and pathe- 
tic exemplification of the gratification felt in the 
indulgence of mournful sympathy, or generous in- 
dignation ; the latter pointed against the two things 
the author most hated, superstition and tyranny. 

The third book touches upon a difficult and un- 
grateful subject for the poetic art, the Pleasures of 
Ridicule. It involves the question, much agitated 



22 OK akenside's 

at that time, whether ridicule be the test of truth. 
Our author follows the system of Shaftesbury, 
which drew upon him an attack from Bishop 
Warburton, and he was defended by his friend 
and patron Jeremiah Dyson. To say truth, it 
is easier to defend the Philosopher than the Poet. 
There is much acuteness in the theory, and much 
art exhibited in giving a poetical dress to the va- 
rious illustrations he makes use of ; but after all, 
the subject is so barren in itself, and so unsuitable 
to the solemn manner of Akenside, that we admire 
without pleasure, and acquiesce without interest. 
He promises indeed to 

Unbend his serious measure, and reveal 

In lighter strains, how Folly's aukward arts 

Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke, 

The sportive province of the comic Muse : 

But he has net kept his promise : neither indeed 

could he, for besides that no one was ever less 

capable than our author of unbending, the object of 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION* 23 

his disquisition is not to make us laugh, but to 
tell us why we laugh : a very different problem, 
and very remote from any ideas of pleasantry. Nor 
could he, without violating uniformity, change the 
measure of his Poem, otherwise this part of his 
subject not affording any play, for the higher beau- 
ties and bolder sweep of blank verse, would have 
been better treated of in the neat and terse couplet, 
after the manner of Pope's Ethical Epistles, or 
Young's Satires. He begins, agreeably to the 
system he had embraced, w r ith deducing all devia- 
tions from rectitude or propriety, from false opi- 
nions, imbibed in early youth, which attract the 
imagination by fallacious shews of good. Of these 
false opinions the more serious lead to vice, while 
those which refer to the less important particulars 
of our conduct betray to ridicule, the source of 
which is incongruity ) and its final cause the assisting 
the tardy deductions of reason by the quick impulse 
of an instinctive sense. 



24 ON akenside's 

The theory is beautiful and well supported. Il- 
lustrations of every different species of the ridicu- 
lous are given in the Poem; the notes are judicious, 
and tend still more to elucidate the subject. Still 
it must be confessed the theme is not a poetical one ; 
and it may be even questioned how far it is con- 
nected with the subject; for the sense of ridicule is 
of a very peculiar nature, and is hardly included, 
in common language, among the Pleasures of the 
Imagination. If however the reader is inclined to 
be dissatisfied with this part of his entertainment, 
let him recollect, that if it affords him less pleasure, 
it probably cost the author more pains than any 
other portion of his Poem. It is asserted that under 
the appellation of Momion, the writer has thrown 
out a sarcasm, not undeserved, against the celebrated 
author of the Dunciad; ior surely no man of a 
just moral taste can reflect, without regret, that a 
.capital work of one of our best Poets, composed 
in the height of his reputation, and during the 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 15 

perfection of all his powers, should have no other 
end than to gratify the spleen of an offended author^ 
and to record the petty warfare of rival wits. It 
is an observation of the excellent Hartley, that 
those studies which confine the mind within the 
exercise of its own powers, as criticism, poetry, 
and most philological pursuits, are apt to generate 
a supercilious deportment and an anxious and self- 
ish regard to reputation : whereas the pursuit of 
truth, carrying the mind out of itself to large views 
of nature and providence, fills it with sublime and 
generous feelings. The remark must undoubtedly 
be taken with great latitude, but it seems to be not 
intirely unfounded. 

Having dismissed the account of Ridicule, so lit- 
tle susceptible of being adorned by his efforts, the 
Poet rises into a higher strain., and investigates that 
wonderful phenomenon from whence the Pleasures 
of Imagination chiefly seem to arise, the mysteri- 
ous connection of moral ideas with visible objects. 



26 ON akenside's 

Why, he asks, does the deep shade of a thick wood 
strike us with religious awe? Why does the light- 
someness and variety ofa more airy landscape suggest 
to us the idea of gaiety and social mirth ? Is there 
really any resemblance, or is it owing to early and 
frequent associations? He decides for the latter, 
and beautifully illustrates that great law on which 
the power of memory entirely depends. This leads 
him to consider the powers of imagination as re- 
siding in the human mind, when, after being stored 
by means of memory, with ideas of all that is great 
and beautiful in nature, the child of fancy com- 
bines and varies them in a new creation of its own, 
from whence the origin of Music, Painting, Poetry, 
and all those arts which give rise to the secondary 
or reflex pleasures, referred to in the latter part of 
his definition. This is accompanied by a glowing 
and animated description of the process of compo- 
sition, written evidently with the pleasure a person 
of genius must have felt, when reflecting with 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 27 

conscious triumph that he is exercising the powers he 
so well describes. He had probably likewise in his 
eye the well known lines of Shakespear, 
The poet's eye in a fine phrenzy rolling. 

The simile of the Parhelion is new and beautiful. 
The harp of Memnon struck bj the rays of the 
sun supplies him with another; and the sympathetic 
needles of Strada with a third, which are the 
only ones in the Poenn 

The Cause is next considered of the pleasure 
which we receive from all that strikes us with the 
sensation of Beauty in the material world. Con- 
cerning this there exist two opinions. One, that 
those objects we call beautiful are so really, and in 
their own nature, and must appear so to any being 
possessed of faculties capable of appreciating them. 
The other that beauty is a mere arbitrary thing, a 
sort of pleasing enchantment spread over the face of 
nature, a delusion, under which we see charms that 
do not at all result from the real properties of 
things, and which other intelligent beings it is pro. 



28 ON akenside's 

bable do not perceive. This latter opinion on* 
^author has embraced as the most philosophical. It 
is not, we presume, the most pleasing, nor the most 
favourable to the dignity and importance of the 
Pleasures of Imagination ; for their boasted con- 
nection with truth vanishes, except indeed in this 
sense that beauty as an arbitrary mark is used with 
precision, and is constantly found to denote the 
health and soundness of the object in which it ap- 
pears to reside, and consequently is made subservient 
to utility : but the beautiful climax is destroyed by 
which the inferior kinds are connected with moral 
beauty, for how can what is real be connected with 
what is imaginary ? unless indeed what would be a 
very dangerous doctrine, the sense of moral beauty 
itself were supposed to be dependent on our pecu- 
liar formation,and adapted only to our present state 
of existence. The Poet has here closely copied from 
Addison, both in opening the thought, and in the 
simile with which he illustrates it. He loses sight 
however of this unpoetical philosophy toward* 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 2$ 

the conclusion, where having observed that taste 
results from the natural quickness of all the per- 
captions he has enumerated, strengthened by ade- 
quate culture, he observes, that culture will not 
however destroy the peculiar bias which is impress- 
ed upon different minds towards the great, or the 
soft and beautiful. This he exemplifies in Waller 
and Shakespear. He then winds up the whole by 
that noble and animated eulogium on the taste for 
the beauties of nature, 

O blest of heaven, whom — 
And having led the lover of the fair and beautiful 
through all the different gradations of excellence, 
he leaves the mind where alone it should rest, in 
the contemplation of the Supreme Excellence, and 
closes with the sublime idea, that in admiring the 
works of nature, we form our taste upon the con- 
ceptions of the Deity himself. 

Much more might be said of the philosophy of 

this Poem, but the chief aim of this essay is to shew 

the poetical use he has made of his subject. M any 



30 ON AKENSIDE'S 

of the divisions might perhaps be differently ar- 
ranged, and the theory in some instances improved, 
but for poetry it is sufficiently accurate, and in^ 
speculations of this shadowy nature, no person will 
be thoroughly content with even his own system 
after the lapse of any considerable portion of time. 



IF the genius of Akenside be to be estimated 
from this Poem, and it is certainly the most capi- 
tal of his works, it will be found to be lofty and 
elegant, chaste, classical, and correct : not marked 
with strong traits of originality, not ardent, nor 
exuberant. His enthusiasm was rather of that kind 
which is kindled by reading and imbibing the spi- 
rit of authors, than by contemplating at first hand 
the works of Nature. As a versifier Akenside is 
allowed to stand amongst those who have given the 
most finished models of blank verse. His periods 
are long, but harmonious, the cadences fall with 
grace, and the measure is supported with uniform 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 31 

dignity. His Muse possesses the mien erect \ and high 
commanding gait. We shall scarcely find a low or 
trivial expression introduced, a careless or unfinish- 
ed line permitted to stand. His stateliness however is 
somewhat allied to stiffness. His verse is sometimes 
feeble through too rich a redundancy of ornament^ 
and sometimes laboured into a degree of obscurity 
from too anxious a desire of avoiding natural and 
simple expressions. We do not conceive of him as. 
pouring easy his unpremeditated strain. It is rather 
difficult to read, from the sense being extended some* 
times through more than twenty lines ; but when 
well read, fills and gratifies the ear with all the 
pomp of harmony. It is far superior to the com- 
positions of his contemporary Thomson (we speak 
now only of the measure), and more equal than 
Milton, though inferior to his finest passages* 
It is indeed too equal not to be in some degree 
monotonous. He is fond of compound epithets, 
led to it perhaps by his fondness for the Greek, 
and delights in giving a classic air to his composu 



32 ON akenside's 

tions by using names and epithets the most remote 
from vulgar use. Like Homer's gods his poetry 
speaks a different language from that of common 
mortals. 

That an author who lived to near fifty should 
have produced his most capital work at three and 
twenty, seems to imply (as his professional studies 
did not cause him to lay aside his poetical pursuits) 
a genius more early than extensive, a mind more 
refined than capacious. And that this was the case 
in reality, will appear from his having employed 
himself during several years in correcting and in. 
tirely new moulding this his favourite Poem, To 
correct to a certain degree is the duty of a man of 
sense, but always to correct will not be the employ- 
ment of a man of spirit. It betrays a miud rather 
brooding with fond affection over old productions, 
than inspired by a fresh stream of new ideas. The 
flowers of fancy are apt to lose their odour by 
much handling, the glow is gone, and the ear itself 
after a certain time loses its tact amidst repeated 



^PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION* S3 

alterations, as the taste becomes confounded by thfc 
successive trial of different flavours. 

The Edition which he was preparing was, however, 
left in too imperfect a state to justify its being pre* 
sented to the public, at least of superseding the 
complete one which is here given, and which passed 
rapidly through many editions soon after its first 
appearance. In the posthumous Poem the ordon- 
nance is greatly changed : Novelty is left out as a 
primary source of the Pleasure of the Imagination, 
and placed among the adventitious circumstances 
which only increaseit: the greatestpart of the lines 
on Ridicule is also omitted, and he has abandoned 
the idea of its being the test of truth, an idea which 
had given offence to the severer moralists. Instead 
of the allegory of Virtue and Euphrosyne, the 
third book consists of a story concerning Solon, 
on which Dr. Johnson makes this single observa- 
tion, that it is too long. The probability is that 
the critic never read it through: as, for the author's 



34 ON akekside's 

purpose, it is too short, since it breaks off so abruptly, 
that though the purport is declared to be to show 
the origin of evil, the story is not far enough 
advanced to allow the reader even to guess at the 
intended solution. Of the fourth book the begin, 
ning is barely sketched. But had the whole been 
completed we may venture to pronounce, that, if the 
system was improved, the Poetry would have been 
weaker. He has amplified what had before a ten- 
dency to be redundant ; he has rendered abstruse 
what was before sufficiently difficult of comprehen. 
sion ; and in proportion as he has departed from 
the chaste elegance of Addjson, he has given to his 
subject a dry scholastic air, and involved it in 
metaphysical subtilties. Of amplification the fol- 
lowing are instances. In the Poem before us we 
meet with the line 

And painted shells indent their speckled wreaths. 

Not being willing to let these shells pass without 
the-lustreof an additional polish, he has altered it to 



PLEASURES OT IMAGINATION. 35 

And painted shells along some winding shore 
Catch with indented folds the glancing sum 
He had spoken in the former of 
— the thymy vale 
Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds 
Ilissus pure devolved his tuneful stream 
In gentler murmurs. 

The thought of a river listening to eloquence is 
but trite, and therefore sufficiently spread ; but not 
content with the image, he has in the later work 
added Boreas and Orithyia to the dramatis persona?. 

Where once beneath 

That ever-living plantane's ample boughs 
Ilissus by Socratic sounds detain'd 
On his neglected urn attentive lay. 
While Boreas lingering on the neighbouring steep 
With beauteous Orithyia his love-tale 
In silent awe suspended. 
Sometimes, however, we meet with a happier 
image. The following is very picturesque : 
d 2 



3(5 ON AKENSIDE'S, &C. 

O ye dales 

Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands, where 
Oft as the giant fiood obliquely strides 

And his banks open 

The following description of universal or primitive 
beauty, though somewhat too awful for a Venus, is 
striking, and merits preservation : 

He, God most high, — Page 130 to 
- — and owns her charms, — Page 134. 
On the whole, though we may not look upon 
Akenside as one of those few born to create an era 
in Poetry, we may well consider him as formed to 
shine in the brightest; we may venture to predict 
that his work, which is not formed on any local or 
temporary subject, will continue to be a classic in 
our language; and we shall pay him the grateful 
regard which we owe to genius exerted in the cause 
of liberty and philosophy, of virtue and of taste. 



*TH* 



DESIGN. 



THERE are certain powers in human nature which 
seem to hold a middle place between the organs of 
bodily sense, and the faculties of moral perception : 
they have been called by a very general name, The 
Powers of Imagination. Like the external senses, 
they relate to matter and motion ; and, at the same 
time, give the mind ideas analogous to those of 
moral approbation and dislike. As they are the 
inlets of some of the most exquisite pleasures with 
which we are acquainted, it has naturally happened 
that men of warm and sensible tempers have sought 
means to recall the delightful perceptions which 
they afford, independent of the object which ori- 
ginally produced them. This gave rise to the 
imitative or designing arts ; some of which, as 



Z THE DESIGN. 

painting and sculpture, directly copy the external 
appearances which were admired in nature; others, 
as music and poetry, bring them back to remem- 
brance by signs universally established and under- 
stood. 

But these arts, as they grew more correct and 
deliberate, were of course led to extend their 
imitation beyond the peculiar object of the ima- 
ginative powers ; especially poetry, w hich, making 
use of language as the instrument by which it 
imitates, it consequently becomes an unlimited 
representative of every species and mode of being. 
Yet,as their intention was only to express the objects 
of imagination, and as they still abound chiefly in 
ideas of that class, they of course retain their origi- 
nal character ; and all the different pleasures which 
they excite are termed, in general, Pleasures of 
Imagination. 

The design of the following poem is to give a 
iLew of these in the largest acceptation of the term ; 



THE DESIGN. 3 

so that whatever our imagination feels from the agree- 
able appearances of Nature, and all the various enter- 
tainment we meet with, either in poetry ^ painting^ 
music, or any of the elegant arts, which might be dedu- 
ciblefrom one or other of those principles in the con- 
stitution of the human mind, are here established 
and explained. 

In executing this general plan, it was necessary 
first of all to distinguish the Imagination from our 
other faculties ; and in the next place to charac- 
terize those original forms or properties of being, 
about which it is conversant, and which are by 
nature adapted to it, as light is to the eyes, or 
truth to the understanding. These properties Mr. 
Addison had reduced to the three general classes 
of greatness, novelty, and beauty ; and into these 
we may analyze every object, however complex, 
which, properly speaking, is delightful to the imagi- 
nation. But such an object may also include many 
other sources of pleasure; and its beauty^ or uovelty> 



4 THE DESIGNV 

or grandeur, will make a stronger impression by 
reason of this concurrence. Besides which, the 
imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their 
effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite 
foreign to the imagination, insomuch, that in every 
line of the most applauded poems, we meet with 
either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths 
discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of 
contrivance and final causes, or, above all the rest, 
with circumstances properto awaken and engage the 
passions. It was therefore necessary to enumerate 
and exemplify these different species of pleasure; 
especially that from the passions, which, as it is 
supreme in the noblest work of human genius, so 
being in some particulars not a little surprising, gave 
an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn of the 
Poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the , 
appearance. 

After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly 
of admiration, or naturally warm and interest the 



THE DESIGN. 5 

mind, a pleasure of a very different nature, that 
which arises from ridicule, came next to be con- 
sidered. As this is the foundation of the comic 
manner in all the aris, and has been but very imper- 
fectly treated by moral writers, it was thought proper 
to give it a particular illustration, and to distinguish 
the general sources from which the ridicule of cha- 
racters is derived. Here too a change of style 
became necessary ; such a one as might jet be con- 
sistent, if possible, with the general taste of compo- 
sition in the serious parts of the subject ; nor is it an 
easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this 
kind, without running either into the gigantic 
expressions of tho mock heroic, or the familiar and 
poetical raillery of professed satire ; neither of which 
would have been proper here. 

The materials of all imitation being thus laid open ? 
nothing now remained but to illustrate some parti- 
cular pleasures, which arise either from the relation* 
of different objects one to another ; or from the 



fJ THE DESIGN. 

nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind, is that 
various and complicated resemblance existing between 
several parts of the material and immaterial worlds, 
which is the foundation of metaphor and wit. As 
it seems in a great measure to depend on the early 
association of our ideas, and as this habit of associat- 
ing is the source of many pleasures and pains in 
life, and on that account bears a great share in 
the influence of poetry and the other arts, it is 
therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. 
Then follows a general account of the production 
of these elegant arts, and of the secondary pleasure, 
as it is called, arising from the resemblance of their 
imitations to the original appearances of Nature. 
After which, the work concludes with some reflec- 
tions on the general conduct of the powers of 
imagination, and on their natural and moral useful- 
ness in life. 

Concerning the manner or turn of composition 
which prevail* in this piece, little can be said with- 



THE DESIGN. 7 

propriety by the author. He had two models; that 
ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, 
as it is refined by Virgii* in the Georgics, and the 
familiar epistolary way of Horace. This latter 
has several advantages. It admits of a greater 
variety of style ; it more readily engages the gene- 
rality of readers, as partaking more of the air of 
conversation ; and, especially with the assistance of 
rhyme, leads to a closer and more concise expression. 
Add to this the example of the most perfect of 
modern poets, who has so happily applied this man. 
ner to the noblest parts of philosophy, that the 
public taste is in a great measure formed to it alone. 
Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending almost 
constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed 
rather to demand a more open, pathetic, and figured 
style. This too appeared more natural, as the 
author's aim was not so much to give formal pre*, 
cepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, 
as, by exhibiting the most engaging prospects of 



8 THE DESIGN. 

Nature, to enlarge and harmonize the imagination, 
and by that means insensibly dispose the minds of 
men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in 
religion, morals, and civil life. It is on this account 
that he is so careful to point out the benevolent 
intention of the Author of Nature in every principle 
of the human constitution here insisted on; and also 
to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same 
point of view with the mere external objects of good 
taste; thus recommending them in common to our 
natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful and 
lovely. The same views have also led him to intro. 
duce some sentiments which may perhaps be looked 
upon as not quite direct to the subject; but since 
they bear an obvious relation to it, the authority of 
Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will 
best support him in this particular. For the sentu 
ments themselves, he makes no apology. 



FIRST BOOK 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 



ARGUMENT. 

The subject proposed. — Difficulty of treating it poetically.-*. 
The ideas of the divine mind, the origin of every quality 
pleasing to the imagination. — The natural variety of consti- 
tution in the minds of men ; with its final cause.— The idea 
of a fine imagination and the state of the mind in the enjoy- 
ment of those pleasures which it affords. All the primary 
pleasures of the imagination result from the perception of 
greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. — The plea- 
sure from greatness, with its final cause. — Pleasure from 
novelty, or wonderfulness, with its final cause. — Pleasure 
from beauty, with its final cause. — The connection of beauty 
with truth and good, applied to the conduct of life. — Invi- 
tation to the study of moral philosophy. — The different degrees 
of beauty indifferent species of objects: colour; shape; na- 
tural concretes; vegetables; animals; the mind. — The sub- 
lime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. — The connection of 
the imagination and the moral faculty. — Conclusion. 



TttB 

PLEASURES 

OF 

IMAGINATION, 



BOOK I. 



W ITH what attractive charms this goodly frame 

Of nature touches the consenting hearts 

Of mortal men ; and what the pleasing stores 

Which beauteous imitation thence derives 

To deck the poet's, or the painter's toil ; 5 

My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle powers 

Of musical delight ! and while I sing 

Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. 

Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, 

Indulgent Fancy ! from the fruitful banks 10 



12 THE PLEASURES 

Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull 

Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf 

Where Shakespear lies, be present; and with thee 

Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings 

Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, 15 

Which by the glances of her magic eye 

She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, 

Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre. 

Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, 

AVilt thou, eternal Harmony ! descend 20 

And join this festive train? for with thee comes 

The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, 

Majestic Truth : and where Truth deigns to come, 

Her sister Liberty will not be far. 

Be present all ye Genii, who conduct 25 

The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, 

New to your springs and shades : who touch his ear 

With finer sounds : who heighten to his eye. 

The bloom of Nature, and before him turn 

The gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30 



OF IMAGINATION, IS 

Oft have the laws of each poetic strain 
The critic-verse employ'd ; yet still unsung 
Lay this prime subject, though importing most 
A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt. 
By dull obedience and by creeping toil 35 

Obscure to conquer the severe ascent 
Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath 
Must fire the chosen genius ; Nature's hand 
Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings 
Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40 

High as the summit; there to breathe at large 
iEihcrial air ; with bards and sages old, 
Immortal sons of praise. The flattering scenes, 
To this neglected labour court my song; 
Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task 45 

To paint the finest features of the mind, 
And to most subtle and mysterious things 
Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love 
Of Nature and the Muses bids explore. 
Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50 



14 THE PLEASURES 

The fair poetic region, to detect 
Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts 5 
And shade my temples with unfading flowers 
Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess^ 
Where never poet gain'd a wreath before. 55 

From heaven my strains begin;from heaven descends 
The flame of genius to the human breast, 
And love and beauty, and poetic joy 
And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun 
Sprang from the East, or 'mid the vault of night 60 
The moon suspended her serener lamp ; 
Ere mountains,woods, or streams, adorn'd the globe^ 
Or wisdom taught the sons of men her lore ; 
Then liv'd the Almighty One : then, deep-retir'd 
In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, 65 
The forms eternal of created things ; 
The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, 
The mountains, woods, and streams, the rollingglobe^ 
And wisdom's mien celestial. From the first 



OF IMAGINATION. 15 

Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70 

His admiration : till in time complete, 
What he admir'd and lov'd, his vital smile 
Unfolded into being. Hence the breath 
Oflife informing each organic frame, 74 

Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves ; 
Hence light and shade alternate ; warmth and cold J 
And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers^ 
And all the fair variety of things* 

But not alike to every mortal eye 
Is this great scene unveil'd. For since the claims 80 
Of social life, to different labours urge 
The active powers of man ; with wise intent 
The hand of Nature on peculiar minds 
Imprints a different bias, and to each 
Decrees its province in the common toil. 85 

To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, 
The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, 
The golden zones of heaven : to some she gave 
e2 



16 THE PLEASURES 

To weigh the moment of eternal things, 

Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90 

And will's quick impulse : others by the hand 

She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore 

What healing virtue swells the tender veins 

Of herbs and flowers ; or what thebeams of morn 

Drawforth, distilling from the cliftedrind 95 

In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes 

Were destin'd ; some within a finer mould 

She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flamet 

To these, the Sire Omnipotent unfolds 

The world's harmonious volume, there to read 100 

The transcript of himself. On every part 

They trace the bright impressions of his hand : 

In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, 

The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form 

Blooming with rosy smiles, they see pourtray'd 105 

That uncreated beauty, which delights 

The mine! supreme. They also feel her charms, 

Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. 



OF IMAGINATIONS 17 

For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd 
By fabling Nil us, to the quivering touch 110 

Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string 
Consenting, sounded through the warbling air 
Unbidden strains ; even so did Nature's hand 
To certain species of external things, 
Attune the finer organs of the mind : 1 15 

So the glad impulse of congenial powers, 
Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, 
The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, 
Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, 
From nerve to nerve: all naked and alive 120 

They catch the spreading rays : till now the soul 
At length discloses every tuneful spring, 
To that harmonious movement from without 
Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain 
Diiiuses its enchantment : Fancy dreams 125 

Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, 
And vales of bliss ; the intellectual power 
Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear r 



18 THE PLEASURES 

And smiles: the passions, gently sooth'd away, 
Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 

Alcne are waking ; love and joy, serene 
As airs that fan the summer. Oh, attend, 
Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, 
Whose candid bosom the refining love 
Of Nature warms. Oh, listen to my song ; 135 

And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, 
And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, 
And point her loveliest features to thy view. 

Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, 
Whate'er of mimic art's reflected forms 140 

With love and admiration thus inflame 
The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons 
To three illustrious orders have referr'd ; 
Three sister-graces, whom the painter's hand ? 
The poet's tongue, confesses ; the sublime, 145 

The wonderful, the fair. I see them dawn ! 
I eee the radiant visions, where they rise, 



OF IMAGINATION. 19 

More lovely than when Lucifer displays 

His beaming forehead through the gates of morn. 

To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150 

Say, why was man so eminently rais'd 
Amid the vast creation, why ordain' d 
Through life and death to dart his piercing eye. 
With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame ; 
But that the Omnipotent might send him forth 
In sight of mortal and immortal powers, 15$ 

As on a boundless theatre, to run 
The great career of justice ; to exalt 
His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; 
To chase each partial purpose from his breast ; 160 
And through the tossing tide of chance and pain. 
To hold his course unfaultering, while the voice 
Of Truth and Virtue up the steep ascent 
Of Nature, calls him to his high reward, 165 

The applauding smile ofHeaven? Else wherefore burns; 



20 THE PLEASURES 

In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, 
That breathes from day to day sublimer things, 
And mocks possession ? wherefore darts the mind 
With such resistless ardour to embrace 170 

Majestic forms ; impatient to be free, 
Spurning the gross controul of wilful might ; 
Proud of the strong contention of her toils ; 
Proud to be daring ? Who but rather turns 
To Heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175 
Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame ? 
Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye 
Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey 
Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave 
Through mountains, plains, through empires black 
with shade, 180 

And continents of sand; will turn his gaze 
To mark the windings of a scanty rill 
That murmfrrs at his feet ? The high-born soul 
Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing 
Beneath its native quarry. Tir'd of earth 185 



OF IMAGINATION. 21 

And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft 

Through fields of air ; pursues the flying storm ; 

Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens ; 

Or, yok'd with whirlwinds and the Northern blast. 

Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 

The blue profound, and hovering round the sua 191 

Beholds him pouring the redundant stream 

Of light ; beholds his unrelenting sway 

Bend the reluctant planets to absolve 

The fated rounds of time. Thence far effus'd 195 

She darts her swiftness up the long career 

Of devious comets ; through its burning signs 

Exulting measures the perennial wheel 

Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars. 

Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200 

Invests the orient Now amaz'd she views 

The empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold, 

Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode ; 

And fields of radiance, whose unfading light 

Has travell'dthe profound six thousand years ; 205 



22 THE PLEASURES 

Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. 

Even on the barriers of the world untir'd 

She meditates the eternal depth below ; 

Till half recoiling, down the headlong steep 

She plunges ; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up 

In that immense of being. There her hopes 211 

Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth 

Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said. 

That not in humble nor in brief delight. 

Not in the fading echoes of renown, 215 

Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, 

The soul should find enjoyment : but from these 

Turning disdainful to an equal good, 

Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, 

Till every bound at length should disappear, 220 

And infinite perfection close the scene. 

Call now to mind what high capacious powers 
Lie folded up in man ; how far beyond 
The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth 



OF IMAGINATION*. 23 

Cf Nature to perfection half divine 225 

Expand the blooming soul ? What pity then 
Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth 
Her tender blossom ; choke the streams of life. 
And blast her spring ! Far otherwise design'd 
Almighty wisdom 5 Nature's happy cares 230 

The obedient heart iar otherwise incline. 
Witness the sprightly joy, when aught unknown 
Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power 
To brisker measures : witness the neglect 
Of all familiar prospects, though beheld 23£ 

With transport once ; the fond attentive gaza 
Of young astonishment ; the sober zeal 
Of age, commenting on prodigious things, 
For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, 
In every breast implanting this desire 240 

Of objects new and strange, to urge us on 
With unremitted labour to pursue 
Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul. 
In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words 



24 THE PLEASURES 

To paint its power ? For this the daring youth 245 

Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, 

In foreign climes to rove : the pensive sage, 

Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, 

Hangs o'er the sickly temper ; and iintir'd 

The virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250 

The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale, 

From morn to eve ; unmindful of her form,. 

Unmindful of the happy dress that stole 

The wishes of the youth, when every maid 

With envy pin'd. Hence, finally, by night 25S 

The village-matron, round the blazing hearth, 

Suspends the infant-audience with her tales, 

Breathing astonishment ! of witchiag rhymes 

And evil spirits ; of the death-bed call 

Cf him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260 

The orphan's portion ; of unquiet souls 

Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt 

Of deeds in life conceal'd ; of shapes that walk 

At dead of night, and clank their chains, and ware 



-Paae z^ . 







A***rf&&-icr4tov&JVrr&p I fratiWiz&j w j* an # t 



OT IMAGINATION. %% 

The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. 265 

At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, 

Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd 

With shivering sighs : til] eager for the event, 

Around the Beldame all arract they hang, 

Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell' d. 

But lo ! disclos'd ia all her smiling pomp, 271 
Where beauty onward moving claims the verse 
Her charms inspire : the freely-flowing verse 
In thy immortal praise, O form divine, 
Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, beauty, thee 
The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray 276 

The mossy roofs adore : thou, better sun ! 
For ever beamest on the enchanted heart 
Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight 
Poetic. Brightest progeny of heaven! 280 

How shall I trace thy features ? where select 
The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom ? 
Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse, 



25 THE PLEASURES 

Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, 
Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, 285 
Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 
To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly 
With laughing Autumn to the Alantie isles, 
And range with him the Hesperian field, and see 
Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290 
The branches shoot with gold ; where'er his step 
Marks the glad soil, the lender clusters grow 
With purple ripeness, and invest each hill 
As with the blushes of an evening sky ? 
Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, 295 
Where gliding thro' his daughter's honour'd shades, 
The smooth Peneus from his glassy flood 
Reflects purpureal Tempe's pleasant scene ? 
Fair Tempe ! haunt belov'd of sylvan powers, 
Of nymphs and fauns ; where in the golden age 300 
They play'd in secret on the shady brink 
With ancient Pan : while round their choral steps 
Young hours and genial gales with constant hand 



OF IMAGINATION* 27 

Showered blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews 

And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store 305 

To thee nor Tempe shall refuse ; nor watch 

Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits 

From thy free spoil. Oh bear then unreprov'd, 

Thy smiling treasures to the green recess 

Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310 

Intice her forth to lend her angel-form 

For beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn 

Thy graceful footsteps ; hither, gentle maid, 

Incline thy polished forehead : let thy eyes 

Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn ; 315 

And may the fanning breezes waft aside 

Thy radiant locks : disclosing, as it bends 

With airy softness from the marble neck, 

The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, 

Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 

With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend 321 

Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force 

Of Nature, and her kind parental care 



28 THE PLEASURES 

Worthier I'd sing : then aJl the enamour'd youth 

With each admiring virgin, to my lyre 32$ 

Should throng attentive, while I point on high 

Where beauty's living image, like the morn 

That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, 

Moves onward ; or as Venus, when she stood 

Effulgent on the pearly car, and smil'd, 330 

Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, 

To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, 

And each ccerulean sister of the flood 

With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves 

To seek the ldalian bower. Ye smiling band 335 

Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze 

Of young desire with rival steps pursue 

This charm of beauty ; if the pleasing toil 

Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn 

Your favourable ear, and trust my words. 340 

I do not mean to wake the gloomy form 

Of Superstition drcss'd in Wisdom's garb, 

To damp your tender hopes • I do not meaa 



OF IMAGINATION. %\ 

To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, 
Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth 345 

To fright you from your joys : my cheerful song 
With better omens calls you to the field, 
Pleas'd with your generous ardour in the chase, 
And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, 
Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350 
And active use are strangers ? Is her charm 
Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends 
Are lame and fruitless ? Or did Nature mean 
This pleasing call the herald of a lie ; 
To hide the shame of discord and disease, 355 

And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart 
Of idle faith ? Oh no ! with better cares 
The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm 
Her offspring treads the paths of good and ill, 
By this illustrious image, in each kind 360 

Still most illustrious where the object holds 
Its native powers most perfect, she by thi* 
Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, 



30 THE PLEASURES 

And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe 
Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract 
Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, 366 

The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, 
And every charm of animated things, 
Are, only pledges of a state sincere, 
The integrity and order of their frame, 370 

When all is well within, and every end 
Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, 
The lovely ministress of truth and good 
In this dark world: for truth and good are one, 
And beauty dwells in them, and they in her, 375 
With like participation. Wherefore then, 
O sons of earth ! would ye dissolve the tie ? 
Oh wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim, 
Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand 
Of lavish fancy paints each flattering scene 380 

Where beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire 
Where is the sanction of eternal truth, 
Or where the seal of un deceitful good ; 



OF IMAGINATION. 31 

To save your search from folly? Wanting these, 

Lo ! beauty withers in your void embrace, 385 

And with the glittering of an ideot*s toy 

Did fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam 

Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, 

Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, 

To learn the lore of undeccitful good, 390 

And truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms 

Of baleful superstition guide the feet 

Of servile numbers through a dreary way 

To their abode, through deserts, thorns and mire ; 

And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn 395 

To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom 

Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells ; 

To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, 

And to the screaming owl's accursed song 

Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400 

Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star 

Your lovely search illumines. From the grove 

Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, 



32 THE PLEASURES 

Could my ambitious hand intwine a wreath 

Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, 405 

Then should my powerful verse at once dispel 

Those monkish horrors : then in light divine 

Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps 

Of those whom Nature charms thro' blooming walks, 

Thro' fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410 

Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, 

Led by their winged genius and the choir 

Of laurel'd science, and harmonious art, 

Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, 

Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, 415 

The undivided partners of her sway, 

With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh let not us, 

Lull'd by luxurious pleasure's languid strain, 

Or crouching to the frowns of bigot-rage, 

Oh let us not a moment pause to join 430 

That god-like band. And if the gracious power 

Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, 

Will to my invocation breathe anew 



OP IMAGINATION. 33 

The tuneful spirit ; then through all our paths, 

Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre 42d 

Be wanting ; whether on the rosy mead. 

When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart 

Of luxury's allurement ; whether firm 

Against the torrent and the stubborn hill 

To urge bold virtue's unremitted nerve, 430 

And wake the strong divinity of soul 

That conquers chance and fate ; or whether struck 

For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils 

Upon the lofty summit, round her brow 

To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise ; 435 

To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, 

And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. 

Thus with a faithful aim have we presum'd, 
Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form ; 
Whether in vast, majestic pomp array 'd, 440 

Ordrest for pleasing wonder, or serene 
In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, 



34 THE PLEASURE* 

Through various being's fair-proportion' d scale, 
To trace the rising lustre of her charms, 
From their first twilight, shining forth at length 
To full meridian splendor. Of degree 446 

The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth 
Of colours mingling with a random blaze., 
Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line 
And variation of determin'd shape, 450 

Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound 
Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent 
Unites this varied symmetry of parts 
With colour's bland allurement ; as the pearl 
Shines in the concave of its azure beti^ 455 

And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. 
Then more attractive rise the blooming forms 
Through which the breath of Nature has infus'd 
Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins 
Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460 
In fruit and seed prolific : thus the flowers 
Their purple honours with the spring resume ; 



OP IMAGINATION* 35 

And such the stately tree which autumn bends 
With blushing treasures. But more lovely still 
Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent 465 
Of complicated members, to the bloom 
Of colour, and the vital change of growth, 
Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, 
And active motion speaks the temper'd soul : 
So moves the bird of Juno ; so the steed 470 

With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, 
And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy 
Salute their fellows. Thus doth beauty dwell 
There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, 
Where dawns the high expression of a mind : 475^ 
By steps conducting our enraptur'd search 
To that eternal origin, whose power, 
Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, 
Like rays effulging from the parent sun, 
This endless mixture of her charms diffus'd. 480 
Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven !) 
The living fountains in itself contains 



36 THE PLEASURES 

Of beauteous and sublime : here hand in hand, 

Sit paramount the graces ; here cnthron'd, 

Coelestial Venus 3 with divinest airs, 485 

Invites the soul to never-fading joy. 

Look then abroad through Nature, to the range 

Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres , 

Wheeling unshaken through the void immense ; 

And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490 

With half that kindling majesty dilate 

Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose 

Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, 

Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm 

Aloft extending, like eternal Jove 495 

When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud 

On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, 

And bade the father of his country, hail! 

For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, 

And Rome again is free ! Is aught so fair 500 

In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, 

In the bright eye of Hesper or the morn, 



OF IMAGINATION. 37 

In Nature's fairest forms, is ought so fair 

As virtuous friendship ? As the candid blush 

Of him who strives with fortune to be just ? 505 

The graceful tear that streams for others' woes ? 

Or the mild majesty of private life, 

Where peace with ever-blooming olive crowns 

The gate 3 where honour's liberal hands effuse 

Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 

Of innocence and love protect the scene? 

Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound 

Where Nature works in secret; vbw the beds 

Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault 

That bounds the hoary ocean ; trace the forms 515 

Of atoms moving with incessant change 

Their elemental round ; behold the seeds 

Of being, and the energy of life 

Kindling the mass with ever-active flame : 

Then to the secrets of the working mind 520 

Attentive turn ; from dim oblivion call 

Her fleet, ideal band j and bid them, go ! 



SS THE PLEASURE! 

Break through Time's barrier, and overtake the hour 
That saw the heavens created : then declare 
If aught were found in those external scenes 525 
To move thy wonder now. For what are all 
The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears. 
Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts ? 
Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows 
The superficial impulse ; dull their charms, 530 
And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. 
Not so the moral species, nor the powers 
Of genius and design ; the ambitious mind 
There sees herself : by these congenial forms 
Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act 535 

She bends each nerve, and meditates well-pleas'd 
Her features in the mirror. For of all 
The inhabitants of earth, to man alone 
Creative wisdom gave to lift his eye 
To Truth's eternal measures; thenee to frame 540 
The sacred laws of action and of will, 
Discerning justice from unequal deeds, 



OF -IMAGINATION* 39 

And temperance from folly. But beyond 

This energy of truth, whose dictates bind 

Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, 546 

To deck the honour' d paths of just and good. 

Has added bright imagination's rays : 

Where virtue, rising from the awful depth 

Of Truth's mysterious bosom, doth forsake 

The unadorn'd condition of her birth ; 550 

And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, 

Assumes a various feature, to attract^ 

With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, 

The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, 

The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires 555 

With purest wishes, from the pensive shade 

Beholds her moving, like a virgin Muse 

That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme 

Of harmony and wonder : while among 

The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 

Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, 

And through the rolls of memory appeals 



40 THE PLEASURES 

To ancient honour, or, in act serene, 

Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword 

Of public power, from dark ambition's reach 565 

To guard the sacred volume of the laws. 

Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps 
Well-pleas'd I follow through the sacred paths 
Of Nature and of Science ; nurse divine 
Of all heroicdeeds and fair desires! 570 

Oh ! let the breath of tliy extended praise 
Inspire my kindling bosom to the height 
Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts 
Presumptuous counted, if amid the calm 
That sooths this vernal evening into smiles, 575 

I steal impatient from the sordid haunts 
Of strife and low ambition, to attend 
Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, 
By their malignant footsteps ne'er profan'd. 
Descend, propitious ! to my favour'd eye ; 580 

Such in thy inein, thy warm, exalted air, 



OF IMAGINATION. 41 

As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung 

With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth 

To see thee rend the pageants of his throne ; 

And at the lightning of thy lifted spear 585 

Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, 

Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, 

Thy smiling band of arts, thy god-like sires 

Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth 589 

Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 

Through fair Lyceum's wall:, the green retreats 

Of Academus, and the thymy vale, 

Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, 

Ilissus pure devolv'd his tuneful stream 

In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store 

Of these auspicious fields, may I unblam'd 595 

Transplant some living blossoms to adorn 

My native clime : while far above the flight 

Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock 

The springs of ancient wisdom ! while I join (500 

Thy name, thrice honour'd J with the immortal praise 



42 THE PLEASURES, &C. 

Of Nature, while to my compatriot youth 
I point the high example of my sons, 
And tune to attic themas the British lyre. 



END OF THE FIRST BOOK. 



SECOND BOOK 



OF THE 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 



ARGUMENT. 

THE separation of the works of Imagination from philoso- 
phy, the cause of their abuse among the moderns. — Prospect 
of their re-union under the influence of public liberty. — 
Enumeration of accidental pleasures, which increase the 
effect of objects delightful to the imagination. — The pleasures 
of sense. — Particular circumstances of the mind. — Discovery 
of truth. — Perception of contrivance and design. — Emotion 
of the passions. — All the natural passions partake of a pleas- 
ing sensation ; with the final cause of this constitution 
illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, 
pity, terror, and indignation. 



PLEASURES 

OF 

IMAGINATION. 



BOOK II. 



VV HEN shall the laurel and the vocal string 
Resume their honours? When shall we behold 
The tuneful tongue, the Promethean hand, 
Aspire to ancient praise ? Alas ! how faint. 
How slow, the dawn of beauty and of truth 5 

Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night 
Which yet involve the nations ! Long they groan'd 
Beneath the furies of rapacious force ; 
Oft as the gloomy North, with iron-swarms 
Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, ' 10* 

a 



46 THE PLEASURES 

Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works 

Of liberty and wisdom down the gulph 

Of all-devouring night. As long immur'd 

In noon-tide darkness by the glimmering lamp. 

Each Muse and each fair science pin'd away 15 

The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands 

Their mysteries profan'd, unstrung the lyre, 

And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth. 

At last the Muses rose, and spurn'd their bonds, 

And, wildly warbling, scattered, as they flew, 20 

Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers 

To Arno's myrtle border and the shore 

Of soft Parthenope. But still the rage 

Of dire ambition and gigantic power. 

From public aims and from the busy walk 25 

Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train 

Of penetrating science to the cells. 

Where studious ease consumes the silent hour 

In shadowy searches and unfruitful care. 

Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts 30 



OF IMAGINATION. 47 

Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy, 

To priestly domination and the lust 

Of lawless courts, their amiable toil 

For three inglorious ages have resign'd, 

In vain reluctant : and T orquato's tongue 35 

Was tun'd for slavish paeans at the throne 

Of tinsel pomp : and Raphael's magic hand 

Effus'd its fair creation to enchant 

The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes 

To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40 

The sable tyrant plants his heel secure. 

But now, behold ! the radiant a?ra dawns ? 

When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length 

For endless years on Albion's happy shore 

In full proportion, once more shall extend 45 

To all the kindred powers of social bliss 

A common mansion, a parental roof. 

There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train, 

Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old, 

Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50 

g 2 



48 THE PLEASURES 

The Muses and the Graces. Then no more 

Shall Vice, distracting their delicious gifts 

To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn 

Turn from their charms the philosophic eye, 

The patriot-bosom ; then no more the paths 55 

Of public care or intellectual toil, 

Alone by footsteps haughty and severe 

In gloomy state be trod ; (he harmonious Muse 

And her persuasive sisters then shall plant 

Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60 

And scatter flowers along the rugged way. 

Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dar'd 

To pierce divine Philosophy's retreats, 

And teach the Muse her lore ; already strove 

Their long-divided honours to unite, 65 

While tempering this deep argument we sang 

Of Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad task 

Impends ; now urging our ambitious toil, 

We hasten to recount the various springs 

Of adventitious pleasure 3 which adjoin 



OF IMAGINATION. 49 

Their grateful influence to the prime effect 

Of objects grand or beauteous, and enlarge 

The complicated joy. The sweets of sense. 

Do they not oft with kind accession flow, 

To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm ? 75 

So while we taste the fragrance of the rose, 

Glows not her blush the fairer ? While we view 

Amid the noon-tide walk a limpid rill 

Gush thro' the trickling herbage, to the thirst 

Of summer yielding the delicious draught 80 

Of cool refreshment ; o'er the mossy brink 

Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves 

With sweeter music murmur as they flow? 

Nor this alone ; the various lot of life 
Oft from external circumstance assumes 85 

A moment's disposition to rejoice 
In those delights which at a different hour 
Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of spring, 
When rural songs and odours wake the morn, 



50 THE PLEASURES 

To every eye: but how much more to his 9o 

Round whom the bed of sickness long diflus'd 
Its melancholy gloom ! how doubly fair, 
When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales 
The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun 
Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life 95 
Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain! 

Or shall I mention, where coelestial Truth 
Her awful light discloses, to bestow 
A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame? 
For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 
More welcome touch his understanding's eye, 101 
Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, 
Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet 
The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues 
To me have shone so pleasing, as when first 105 
The hand of Science pointed out the path 
In which the sun-beams gleaming from the West 
Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil 



OF IMAGINATION. 5i 

Involves the orient ; and that trickling shower 

Piercing thro' every crystalline convex 110 

Of clustering dew-drops to their flight oppos'd, 

Recoil at length where concave are behind 

The internal surface of each glassy orb 

Repels their forward passage into air ; 

That thence direct they seek the radiant goal 115 

From which their course began; and as they strike 

In different lines the gazer's obvious eye. 

Assume a different lustre, tho' the braid 

Of colours changing from the splendid rose 

To the pale violet's dejected hue. 120 

Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, 
That springs to each fair object, while we trace- 
Thro' all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim 
Disposing e\ery part, and gaining still 
By means proportion' d her benignant end ? 125 

Speak, ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps 
The lamp of science thro' the jealous maze 



52 THE PLEASURES 

Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal 

Her secret honours : whether in the sky, 

The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 

That wheel the pensile planets round the year; 

Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, 

Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, 

Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, 

Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. 135 

What, when to raise the meditated scene, 
The flame of passion, thro' the struggling soul 
Deep-kindled shows across that sudden blaze 
The object of its rapture, vast of size, 
With fiercer colours and a night of shade ? 140 

What ? like a storm from their capacious bed 
The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might 
Of these eruptions, working from the depth 
Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame 
Even to the base ; from every naked sense 145 

Of pain or pleasure dissipating all 



OF IMAGINATION. 53 

Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil 

Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times 

To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks 

Her genuine language and the words of men, 150 

Big with the very motion of their souls, 

Declare with what accumulated force. 

The impetuous nerve of passion urges on 

The native weight and energy of things. 

Yet more : her honours where nor beauty claims, 
Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, 156 
From passion's power alone our nature holds 
Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse 
Rouses the mind's own fabric ; with supplies 
Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 

Intensely poiz'd, and polishes anew 
By that collision all the fine machine: 
Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees 
Incumbering, choke at last, what Heaven design'd 
For ceaseless motion and a round of toil. 165 



54 THE PLEASURES 

— But say, does every passion thus to mau 

Administer delight ? Thai name indeed 

Becomes the rosy breath of love ; becomes 

The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand 

Of admiration : but tha bitter shower 170 

That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave, 

But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, 

Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart 

Of panting indignation, find we there 

To move delight ? — Then listen while my tongue 

The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe 176 

Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach 

My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd 

Within his learned mind whate'er the schools 

Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180 

O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws 

Which govern and support this mighty frame 

Of universal being. Oft the hours 

From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away. 

While mute attention hung upon his lips, 185 

As thus the sage his awful tale began : 



OF IMAGINATION. 55 

'Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, 
"When spotless youth with solitude resigns 
To sweet philosophy the studious day. 
What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 
Musing I rov'd. Of good and evil much, 
And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd; 
When starting full on Fancy's gushing eye 
The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, 
That hour, O long belov'd, and long deplor'd ! 196 
When blooming youth, nor gentlest Wisdom's arts, 
Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, 
Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears 
Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; 
Thy agonizing looks, thy last farewell 200 

Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul 
As with the hand of Death. At once the shade 
More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds 
With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark 
As midnight storms, the scene of human things 205 
Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands, 



56 THE PLEASURES 

Where the parch'd adder dies ; the frozen South, 

And desolation blasting all the West 

With rapine and with murder : tyrant power 

Here sits enthron'd with blood ; the baleful charms 

Of Superstition there infect the skies, 211 

And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven ! 

What is the life of man ? Or cannot these, 

Not these portents thy awful will suffice ? 

That, propagated thus beyond their scope, 215 

They rise to act their cruelties anew 

In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed 

The universal sensitive pain. 

The wretched heirs of evils not his own ! 

Thus I impatient; when at once efFus'd, 220 
A flashing torrent of coelestial day 
Burst thro' the shadowy void. With slow descent 
A purple cloud came floating thro' the sky, 
And pois'd at length within the circling trees, 
Hung obvious to my view ; till opening wide 226 



OF IMAGINATION. 5^ 

Its lucid orb, a more than human form 

Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head. 

And instant thunder shook the conscious grove. 

Then melted into air the liquid cloud, 

Then all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230 

A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound, 

And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee, 

Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist 

Collected with a radiant zone of gold 

iEtherial : there in mystic signs engrav'd. 235 

I read his office high and sacred name 

Genius of human kind. Appall'd I gaz'd 

The godlike presence ; for athwart his brow 

Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern, 

Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240 

Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air* 

Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth ! 
And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span 
Capacious of this universal frame I 



58 THE PLEASURE5 

Thy wisdom all-sufficient ? Thou, alas ! 245 

Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord 
Of Nature and his works? to lift thy voice 
Against the sovereign order he decreed, 
All good and lovely ? to blaspheme the bands 
Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 

Holiest of things! Jby which the general orb 
Of being as by adamantine links, 
Was drawn to perfect union and sustain'd 
From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs 
Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal 255 

So grievous to the soul, as (hence to wish 
The ties of Nature broken from thy frame ; 
That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart 
Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then 
The wretched heir of evils not its own ? 260 

O fair benevolence of generous minds ! 
O man by Nature form'd for all mankind! 

He spoke ; abash'd and silent I remain'd, 
As conscious of my tongue's offence, and aw'd 



©F IMAGINATION. 59 

Before his presence, tho' my secret soul 265 

Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground 

I fix'd my eyes ; till from his airy couch 

He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand 

My dazzling forehead, Raise thy sight, he cried, 

And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue. 270 

I look'd, and lo! the former scene was chang'd; 
For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, 
A solitary prospect, wide and wild, 
Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas an horrid pile 
Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, 275 

With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. 
Aloft recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, 
The brown woods wav'd; while ever trickling springs 
Wash'd from the naked roots of oats and pine 
The crumbling soil ; and still at every fall 280 

Down the steep windings of the channell'd rock, 
Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods 
With hoarser inundation \ till at last 



CO THE PLEASURES 

They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts 
Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, 285 
And drank the gushing moisture, where confin'd 
In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale 
Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils 
Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, t 

Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 
As in a sylvan theatre enclos'd 291 

That flowery level. On the river's brink 
I spy'd a fair pavilion jAvhich diffus'd 
Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade 
Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd 295 

Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, 
And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, 
On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light 
That cheer'd the solemn scene. M\ listening powers 
Were aw'd, and every thought in silence hung, 300 
And wondering expectation. Then the voice 
Of that celestial power 3 the mystic show 
Declaring, thus my deep attention calPd. 



©F IMAGINATION. 61 

Inhabitant of earth, to whom is given 
The gracious ways of Providence to learn, 305 

Receive my sayings with a stedfast ear — 
Know then, the sov'reign spirit of the world, 
Though, self-collected from eternal time, 
Within his own deep essence he beheld 
The bounds of true felicity complete; 310 

Yet by immense benignity inclin'd 
To spread around him that primaeval joy 
Which fill'd himself, he rais'd his plastic arm 
And sounded through the hollow depth of space 
The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose 315 
These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life 
Effusive kindled by his breath divine 
Through endless forms of being. Each inhal'd 
From him its portion of the vital flame, 
In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320 
Of co-existent orders, one might rise, 
One order, all-involving and entire. 
He too beholding in the sacred light 



62 THE PLEASURES 

Of his essential reason, all the shapes 

Of swift contingence, all successive ties 325 

Of action propagated through the sum 

Of possible existence, he at once, 

Down the long series of eventful time 

So fix'd the dates of being, so dispos'd, 

To every living soul of every kind 330 

The field of motion and the hour of rest, 

That all conspir'd to his supreme design, 

To universal good : with full accord 

Answering the mighty model he had chosen, 

The best and fairest of unnumber'd worlds 335 

That lay from everlasting in the store 

Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, 

By one exertion of creative power 

His goodness to reveal ; through every age, 

Through every moment up the tract of time 340 

His parent-hand with ever-new increase 

Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd 

The vast harmonious frame ; his parent-hand, 



OP IMAGINATION. 63 

From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, 
To men, to angels, to coelestial minds, 345 

For ever leads the generations on 
To higher scenes of being ; while supply'd 
From day to day with his enlivening breath. 
Inferior orders in succession rise 
To fill the void below. As flame ascends, 350 

As bodies to their proper centre move, 
As the pois'd ocean to the attracting moon 
Obedient swells, and every headlong stream 
Devolves its winding waters to the main ; 
So all things which have life aspire to God, 355 
The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, 
Centre of souls ! Nor does the faithful voice 
Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps 
Aright : nor is the care of Heaven withheld 
From granting to the task proportion'd aid ; 360 
That in their stations all may persevere 
To climb the ascent of being, and approach 
For ever nearer to the life divine. 
k2 



64 THE PLEASURES 

That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn 
Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene 
Paint in tliy fancy the primaeval seat 366 

Of man, and where the will supreme ordain'd 
His mansion, that pavilion fair diffus'd 
Along the shady Drink ! in this recess 
To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370 

Till riper hours should open to his toil 
The high communion of superior minds. 
Of consecrated Heroes and of Gods. 
Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget 
His tender bloom to cherish ; nor withheld 375 
Ccelestial footsteps from his green abode. 
Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, 
He sent whom most he lovM the sov'reign fair, 
The effluence of his glory, whom he plac'd 
Before his eyes for ever to behold ; 380 

The goddess from whose inspiration flows 
The toil of patriots, the delight of friends ; 
Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, 



OF IMAGINATION. 65 

Nought lovely, nought propitious comes to pass. 

Nor hopes, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire 385 

Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, 

The folded powers to open, to direct 

The growth luxuriant of his young desires. 

And from the laws of this majestic world 

To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 

Her daily care attended, by her side 391 

With constant steps her gay companion stay'd, 

The fair Euphrosyne, the gentle queen 

Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights 

That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men 395 

And powers immortal. See the shining pair ! 

Behold, where from his dwelling now disclos'd 

They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies. 

I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood 
Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400 
Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower 
Of beauty \ sweetest innocence illum'd 



66 THE PLEASURES 

His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow 

Sat young simplicity. With fond regard 

He viewed the associates, as their steps they mov'd; 

The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd 40.6 

With mild regret invoking her return. 

Bright as the star of evening she appear'd 

Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth 

O^er all her form its glowing honours breath'd ; 410 

And smiles eternal from her candid eyes 

Flow'd like the dewy lustre of the morn 

Effusive trembling on the placid waves. 

The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils 

To bind her sable tresses: full diffus'd 415 

Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze ; 

And in her hand she wav'd a living branch 

Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm 

The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes 

To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420 

The heavenly partner mov'd. The prime of age 

Composed her steps. The presence of a god, 



OF IMAGINATION. 67 

High on the circle of her brow enthron'd. 

From each majestic motion darted awe, 

Devoted awe ! till, cherish'd by her looks 425 

Benevolent and meek, confiding love 

To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. 

Free in her graceful hand she poisM the sword 

Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown 

Display'd the whole simplicity of pomp 430 

Around her honour'd head, A matron's robe 

White as the sunahine streams through vernal clouds 

Her stately form invested. Hand in hand 

The immortal pair forsook the enamell'd green. 

Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light 435 

Gleam'd round their path; coelestiai sounds were heard, 

And through the fragrant air aetherial dews 

Distill'd around them ; till at once the clouds . 

Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew 

Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440 

Of empyrean flame, where spent aud drown'd, 

Afflicted vision plung'd in vain to scan, 



G8 THE PLEASURES 

What object it involv'd. My feeble eyes 
Endur'd not. Bending down to earth I stood, 
With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, 445 
As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, 
With sacred invocation thus began : 

Father of gods and mortals ! whose right arm 
With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, 
Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well-pleas'd 450 
I seek to finish thy divine decree. 
With frequent steps I visit yonder seat 
Of man; thy offspring ; from the tender seeds 
Of justice and of wisdom to evolve 
The latent honours of his generous frame ; 455 

Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot 
From earth's dim scene to those aetherial walks, 
The temple of thy glory. But not me 
Not my directing voice he oft requires, 
Or hears delighted : this enchanting maid, 460 

The associate thou hast given me, her alone 



OF IMAGINATION. 69 

He loves, O Father I absent, her he craves ^ 

And but for her glad presence ever join'dj 

Rejoices not in mine : that all my hopes 

This my benignant purpose to fulfil, 465 

I deem uncertain : and my daily cares 

Unfruitful all and vain, unless by Thee 

Still farther aided in the work divine. 

She ceas'd ; a voice more awful thus replied : 
O thou ! in whom for ever I delight, 470 

Fairer than all the inhabitants of heaven. 
Best image of thy author ! far from thee 
Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame ; 
Who soon or late shall every work fulfil, 
And no resistance find. If man refuse 475 

To hearken to thy dictates ; or allur'd 
By meaner joys, to any other power 
Transfer the honours due to thee alone; 
That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste. 
That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480 



70 



THE PLEASURES 



Go then ! once more, and happy be thy toil; 

Go then ! but let not this thy smiling friend 

Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! 

With thee the son of Nemesis I send ; 

The fiend abhorr'd ! whose vengeance takes account 

Of sacred order's violated laws. 486 

See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, 

Fierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath 

On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, 

Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490 

Thy tender charge, that when despair shall grasp 

His agonizing bosom, he may learn, 

Then he may learn to love the gracious hand 

Alone sufficient in the hour of ill, 

To save his feeble spirit ; then confess 495 

Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair! 

When all the plagues that wait the deadly will 

Of this avenging daemon, all the storms 

Of night infernal, serve but to display 

The energy of thy superior charms 500 



OF IMAGINATION. 71 

With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage, 
And shining clearer in the horrid gloonu 

Here ceas'd that awful voice, and soon I felt 
The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve 
Was clos'd once more, from that immortal fire 505 
Sheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'd 
A vast gigantic spectre striding on 
Thro' murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds^ 
With dreadful action. Black as night his brow 
Relentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510 
With sharp impatience violent he writh'd. 
As through convulsive anguish; and his hand r 
Arm'd with a scorpion-lash, full oft he rais'd 
In madness to his bosom ; while his eyes 
Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook 515 
The void with horror. Silent by his side 
The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd 
Her features. From the glooms which hung around 
No stain of darkness mingled with the beam 



72 THE PLEASURES 

Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520 
Upon the river-bank ; and now to hail 
His wonted guests, with eager steps advanc'd 
The unsuspecting inmate of the shade. 

As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long 
Had rang'd the Alpine snows, by chance at morn 
Sees from a cliff incumbent o'er the smoke 5*2,6 

Of some lone village, a neglected kid 
That strays along the wiid for herb or spring ; 
Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain, 
And thinks he tears him : so with tenfold rage, 530 
The monster sprung remorseless on his prey. 
Amaz'd the stripling stood : with panting breast 
Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail 
Of helpless consternation, struck at once, 
And rooted to the ground. The queen beheld 535 
His terror, and with looks of tenderest care 
Advanc'd to save him. Soon the tyrant felt 
Her awful power. His keen ; tempestuous arm 



OF IMAGINATION. 73 

Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage 
Had aim'd the deadly blow : then dumb retir'd 
With sullen rancour. Lo ! the sovereign maid 541 
Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy 5 
Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek ; 
Then grasps his handstand cheers him with her tongue. 

Oh wake thee, rouze thy spirit ! Shall the spite 
Of yon tormentor thus appal thy heart, 546 

While I, thy friend and guardian, am at hand 
To rescue and to heal? Oh let thy soul 
Remember what the will of heaven ordains 
Is ever good for all ; and if for all, 550 

Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth 
And soothing sunshine of delightful things, 
Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled 
By that bland light, the young unpractis'd views 
Of reason wander through a fatal road, 555 

Far from their native aim : as if to lie 
Inglorious in the fragrant shade^ and wait 



74 THE PLEASURES 

The soft access of ever circling joys, 

Were all the end of being. Ask thyself, 

This pleasing error did it never lull 560 

Thy wishes ? Has thy constant heart refus'd 

The silken fetters of delicious ease ? 

Or when divine Euphrosyne appear'd 

Within this dwelling, did not thy desires 

Hang far below the measure of thy fate, 565 

Which I reveal'd before thee ? and thy eyes, 

Impatient of my counsels, turn away 

To drink the soft effusion of her smiles ? 

Know then, for this the everlasting Sire 

Deprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570 

O wise and still benevolent ! ordains 

This horrid visage hither to pursue 

Thy steps ; that so thy nature may discern 

Its real good, and what alone can save 

Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill 575 

From folly and despair. O yet belov'd ! 

Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm 



OF IMAGINATION. 75 

Thy scatter'd powers ; nor fatal deem the rage 

Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, 

While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580 

Above the generous question of thy arm. 

Brave by thy fears, and in thy weakness strong 

This hour he triumphs : but confront his might, 

And dare him to the combat, then with ease 

Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns 585 

To bondage and to scorn : while thus enur'd 

By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, 

The immortal mind, superior to his fate, 

Amid the outrage of external things, 

Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590 

Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds ! 

Ye waves I ye thunders ! roll your tempest on ; 

Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky ! 

Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire 

Be loosen'd from their seats ; yet still serene, 595 

The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck; 

And ever stronger as the storms advance, 



76 THE PLEASURES 

Firm through the closing ruin holds his way, 
Where Nature calls him to the destin'd goal. 

So spake the goddess ; while through all her frame 
Ccelestial raptures flow'd, in every word, 601 

In every motion kindling warmth divine 
To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift 
As lightning fires the aromatic shade 
In ^Ethiopian fields, the stripling felt 605 

Her inspiration catch his fervid soul. 
And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd : 

Then let the trial come ! and witness thou, 
If terror be upon mc; if I shrink 
To meet the storm, or faulter in my strength 610 
When hardest it besets me. Do not think 
That I am fearful and infirm of soul, 
As late thy eyes beheld : for thou hast chang'd 
My nature ; thy commanding voice has wak'd 
My languid powers to bear me boldly on, 61 & 



OF IMAGINATION. 77 

Where'er the will divine my path ordains 
Through toil or peril : only do not thou 
Forsake me ; Oh be thou for ever near, 
. That I may listen to thy sacred voice. 
And guide by thy decrees my constant feet 620 
But say ? for ever are my eyes bereft ? 
Say, shall the fair Euphrosyne not once 
Appear again to charm me ? Thou, in heaven ! 
O thou eternal Arbiter of things ! 
Be thy great bidding done : for who am I, 625 
To question thy appointment ? Let the frowns 
Of this avenger every morn o'ercast 
The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp 
With double night my dwelling ; I will learn 
To hail them both, and unrepining bear 630 

His hateful presence ; but permit my tongue 
One glad request, and if my deeds may find 
Thy awful eye propitious, oh restore 
The rosy-featur'd maid ; again to cheer 
This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles. 635 



78 THE PLEASURES 

He spoke ; when instant thro' the sable glooms 
With which that furious presence had involv'd 
The ambient air, a flood of radiance came 
Swift as the lightning flash ; the melting clouds 
Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene 6 40 

Euphros) ne appear'd. With sprightly step 
The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, 
And to her wondering audience thus began ; 

Lo ! I am h^re to answer to your vows, 
And be the meeting fortunate ! I come 645 

With joyful tidings ; we shall part no more — 
Hark ! how the gentle Echo from her cell 
Talks thro' the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream 
Repeats the accents, We shall part no more. 
O my delightful friends ! well pleas'd on high 650 
The Father has beheld you, while the might 
Of that stern foe with bitter trial prov'd 
Your equal doings ; then for ever spake 
The high decree: That thou, celestial maid I 



OF IMAGINATION. 79 

Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps 655 

May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more 
Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man, 
Alone endure the rancour of his arm. 
Or leave thy lov'd Euphrosyne behind* 

She ended : and the whole romantic scene 660 
Immediate vanished ; rocks, and woods, and rills. 
The mantling tent, and each mysterious form, 
Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, 
When sun-shine fills the bed. Awhile I stood 
Perplex'd and giddy ; till the radiant power 66$ 
Who bade the visionary landscape rise, 
As up to him I turn'd, with gentlest looks 
Preventing my inquiry, thus began : 

There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint 
How blind, how impious ! There behold theways 
Of Heaven's eternal destiny to man, 67l 

For ever just, benevolent, and wise ; 
j2 



80 THE PLEASURES 

That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued 

By vexing Fortune and intrusive Pain, 

Should never be divided from her chaste, 675 

Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need I urge 

Thy tardy thought thro' all the various round 

Of this existence, that thy softening soul 

At length may learn what energy the hand 

Of Virtue mingles in the bitter tide 680 

Of Passion swelling with Distress and Pain, 

To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops 

Of cordial Pleasure ? Ask the faithful youth, 

Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov'd 

So often fills his arms ; so often draws 685 

His lonely footsteps at the silent hour. 

To pay the mournful tribute of his tears ? 

Oh ! he will tell thee, that the wealth of world* 

Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 

That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise 660 

Of care and envy, sweet remembrance sooths 

With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, 




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OF IMAGINATION. 81 

And turns his tears to rapture, — Ask the crowd 

Which flies impatient from the village walk 

To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below 

The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast 69Q 

Some helpless bark ; while sacred Pity melts 

The general eye, or Terror's icy hand 

Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair ; 

While every mother closer to her breast 700~ 

Catches her child 3 and pointing w r here the waves 

Foam thro' the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud, 

As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms 

For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, 

As now another, dash'd against the rock, 705 

Drops lifeless down : Oh ! deemest thou indeed 

No kind endearment here by -Nature given 

To mutual Terror and Compassion's tears ? 

No sweetly-melting softness which attracts, 

O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers 710 

To this their proper action and their end ? 

i — Ask thy own heart ; w hen at the midnight hour 



82 THE PLEASURES 

Slow thro' that studious gloom thy pausing eye 

Led by the glimmering taper moves around 

The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs 715 

Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame 

For Grecian heroes, where the present Power 

Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, 

Even as a father blessing, while he reads 

The praises of his son. If then thy soul, 720 

Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days, 

Mix in their deeds, and kindle with their ilame ; 

Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view, 

When rooted from the base, heroic states 

Mourn in the dust, and tremble at the frown 7%5 

Of curs'd ambition ; when the pious band 

Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires. 

Lie side by side in gore ; when ruflian pride 

Usurps the throne of justice, turns the pomp 

Of public power, the majesty of rule, 730 

The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, 

To slavish empty pageants, to adorn 



-OF IMAGINATION* 83 

A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes 
Of such as bow the knee ; when honour'd urns 
Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust 735 

And storied arch, to glut the coward-rage 
Of regal envy, strew the public way 
With hallow'd ruins ; when the Muse's haunt, 
The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk 
With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, 740 

Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, 
Or female Superstition's midnight prayer ; 
When ruthless Rapine from the hand of Time 
Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow 
To sweep the works of glory from their base ; 745 
Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street 
Expands his raven-wings, and up the wall, 
Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, 
Hisses the gliding snake thro' hoary weeds 
Tiiat clasp the mouldering column ; thus defae'd, 
Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills 
Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear 751 



$4 THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 

Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm 

In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove 

To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, 755 

Or dash Octavius from the trophied car ; 

Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste 

The big distress ? Or wouldst thou then exchange 

Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot 

Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 760 

Of mute barbarians bending to his nod, 

And bears aloft his gold-invested front, 

And says within himself, "lama king, 

(i And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe 

66 Intrude upon mine car ? — " The baleful dregs 

Of these late ages, this inglorious draught 766 

Of servitude and folly, have not yet, 

Blest be the eternal Ruler of the World ! 

Defil'dto such a depth of sordid shame 

The native honours of the human soul, 770 

JVor so effac'd the image of its Sire. 

END OF THE SECOND BOOK. 



THIRD BOOK 



PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 



ARGUMENT. 

THE pleasure of observing the tempers and manners of meft, 
even where vicious or absurd. — The origin of vice, from 
false representations of the fancy, producing false opinions 
concerning good and evil. — Inquiry into ridicule. — The gene- 
ral sources of ridicule in the minds and characters of men enu- 
merated. — Final cause of the sense of ridicule. — The resem- 
blance of certain aspects of inanimate things to the sensations 
and properties of the mind. The operations of the mind in the 
production of the works of the imagination, described. — The 
secondary pleasure from imitation. — The benevolent order of 
the world illustrated in the arbitrary connection of these pleasures 
with the objects which exite them. — The nature and conduct 
of taste. — Concluding with an account of the natural and 
moral advantages resulting from a sensible and well- formed 
imagination. 



THE 



PLEASURES 



OF 



IMAGINATION. 

BOOK III. 

VV HAT wonder therefore, since the endearing ties 
Of passion link the universal kind 
Of man so close, what wonder if to search 
This common Nature thro' the various change 
Of sex, and age, and fortune, and the frame 5 

Of each peculiar, draw the busy mind 
With unresisted charms : The spacious West, 
And all the teeming regions of the South 
Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight 
Of knowledge, hajf so tempting or so fair, 10 



88 THE PLEASURES 

As man to man. Nor only where the smiles 

Of love invite ; nor only where the applause 

Of cordial honour turns the attentive eye 

On Virtue's graceful deeds. For since the course 

Of things external acts in different ways 15 

On human apprehensions, as the hand 

Of Nature temper'd to a different frame 

Peculiar minds ; so haply where the powers 

Of Fancy neither lessen nor enlarge 

The images of things, but paint in all 20 

Their genuine hues, the features which they wore 

In Nature ; there Opinion will be true, 

And Action right. For Action treads the path 

In which Opinion says he follows good. 

Or flies from evil ; and Opinion gives 25 

Report of good or evil, as the scene 

Was drawn by Fancy, lovely or deform'd: 

Thus her report can never there be true 

Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye 

With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30 



OF IMAGINATION. 89 

Is there a man who at the sound of death 

Sees ghastly shapes of Terror conjur'd up, 

And black before him ; nought but death-bed groans 

And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink 

Of light and being, down the gloomy air 35 

An unknown depth ? Alas ! in such a mind 

If no bright forms of excellence attend 

The image of his country ; nor the pomp 

Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice 

Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40 

The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame ; 

Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, 

Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill 

Than to betray hh country ? And in act 

Will he not choose to be a wretch, and live ? 45 

Here Vice begins then. From the enchanting cup 

Which Fancy holds to all, the unwary thirst 

Of youth oft swallows a Circean draught, 

That sheds a baneful tincture o'er the eye 

Of Reason, till no longer he discerns, 50 



SO THE PLEASURES 

And only guides to err. Then revel forth 

A furious band that spurn him from the throne! 

And all is uproar. Thus Ambition grasps 

The empire of the soul : thus pale Revenge 54 

Unsheaths her murderous dagger; and the hands 

Of Lust and Rapine, with unholy arts, 

Watch to o'erturh the barrier of the laws 

That keeps them from their prey : thus all the plagues 

The wicked bear, or o'er the trembling scene 

The Tragic Muse discloses, under shapes t)0 

Of honour, safety, pleasure, ease, or pomp, 

Stole first into the mind. Yet not by all 

Those lying forms which Fancy in the brain 

Engenders, are the kindling passions driven 

To guilty deeds ; nor Reason bound in chains, C5 

That Vice alone may lord it : oft adorn'd 

With solemn pageants, Folly mounts the throne, 

And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. 

A thousand garbs she wears ; a thousand ways 

She wheels her giddy empire. — Lo ! thus far 70 



OF IMAGINATION. Qt 

With bold adventure, to the Mantuan lyre 

I sing of Nature's charms, and touch well-pleas' d 

A stricter note : now haply must my song 

Unbend her serious measure, and reveal 

In lighter strains, how Folly's awkward arts 75 

Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke ; 

The sportive province of the Comic Muse. 

See ! in what crowds the uncouth forms advance : 
Each would outstrip the other, each prevent 
Our careful search, and offer to your gaze, 80 

Unask'd, his motley features. Wait awhile, 
My curious friends ! and let us first arrange 
In proper order your promiscuous throng. 

Behold the foremost band ; of slender thought, 
And easy faith ; whom nattering Fancy sooths 85 
With lying spectres, in themselves to view 
Illustrious forms of excellence and good, 
That scorn the mansion. With exulting hearts 



$$ THE PLEASURES 

They spread their spurious treasures to the sun. 
And bid the world admire ! but chief the glance 90 
Of wilful Envy draws their joy-bright eyes, 
And lifts with self-applause each lordly brow. 
In numbers boundless as the blooms of spring. 
Behold their glaring idols, empty shades 
By Fancy gilded o'er, and then set up 95 

For adoration. Some in Learning's garb, 
With formal band, and sable-cinctured gown, 
And rags of mouldy volumes. Some elate 
"With martial splendor, steely pikes and swords 
Of costly frame, and gay Phoenician robes 100 

Inwrought with flowery gold, assume the port 
Of stately Valour : listening by his side 
There stands a female form ; to her, Avith looks 
Of earnest import, pregnant with amaze, 
He talks of deadly deeds, of breaches, storms, 105 
And sulphurous mines, and ambush : then at once 
Breaks off, and smiles to see her look so pale, 
And asks some wondering question of her fears* 




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Others of graver mien ; behold, adorn'd 

With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, 110 

Asid bending oft their sanctimonious eyes 

Take homage of the simple-minded throng ; 

Ambassadors of heaven ! Nor much unlike 

Is he whose visage, in the lazy mist 

That mantles every feature, hides a brood 115 

Of politic conceits ; of whispers, nods, 

And hints deep omen'd with un wieldly schemes, 

And dark portents of state, ten thousand more 

Prodigious habits and tumultuous tongues. 

Pour dauntless in, and swell the boastful band. 120 

Then comes the second order ; all who seek 
The debt of praise, where watchful unbelief 
Darts through the thin pretence her squinting eye 
On some retir'd appearance which belies 
The boasted virtue, or annuls the applause 125 
That justice else would pay. Here side by side 
I see two leaders of the solemn train 



gi THE PLEASURES 

Approaching : one a female old and grey. 

With eyes demure, and wrinkle furrow'd brow, 

Pale as the cheeks of death ; yet still she stuns 130 

The sickening audience with a nauseous tale, 

How many youths her myrtle-chains have worn,. 

How many virgins at her triumphs pin'd ! 

Yet how resolv'd she guards her cautious heart ; 

Such is her terror at the risques of love, 135 

And man's seducing tongue! The other seems 

A bearded sage, ungentle in his mien, 

And sordid all his habit ; peevish want 

Grins at his heels, while down the gazing throng 

He stalks, resounding in magnific phrase 140 

The vanity of riches, the contempt 

Of pomp and power. Be prudent in your zeal, 

Ye grave associates ! let the silent grace 

Of her who blushes at the fond regard 

Her charms inspire, more eloquent unfold 145 

The praise of spotless honour : let the man 

Whose eye regards not his illustrious pomp 



OF IMAGINATION. f5 

And ample store, but as indulgent streams 

To cheer the barren soil and spread the fruits 

Of joy, let him by juster measures fix 150 

The price of riches and the end of power* 

Another tribe succeeds ; deluded long 

By Fancy's dazzling optics, these behold 

The images of some peculiar things 

With brighter hues resplendent, and pourtray'd 155 

With features nobler far than e'er adorn'd 

Their genuine objects. Hence the fever'd heart 

Pants with delirious hope for tinsel charms ; 

'Hence oft obtrusive on the eye of scorn, 

Untimely zeal her witless pride betrays ! 160 

And serious manhood from the towering aim 

Of Wisdom, stoops to emulate the boast 

Of childish toil. Behold yon mystic form, 

Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds, and shells ! 

Not with intenser view the Samian sage 165 

Cent his fix'd eye on heaven's intenser fires, 
ii 2 



96 THE PLEASURES 

When first the order of that radiant scene 

Swell'd his exulting thought, than this surreys 

A muckworm's entrails or a spider's fang. 

Next him a youth, with flowers and myrtles crown'd, 

Attends that virgin form, and blushing kneels, 171 

With fondest gesture and a suppliant's tongue, 

To win her coy regard : adieu, for him, 

The dull engagements of the bustling world ! 

Adieu the sick impertinence of praise ! 175 

And hope and action! for with her alone, 

By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, 

Is all he asks, and all that fate can give ! 

Thee too, facetious Momion^ wandering here, 

Thee, dreaded censor, oft have I beheld 180 

Bewilder'd unawares: alas! too long 

Flush'd with thy comic triumphs and the spoils 

Of sly derision ! till on every side 

Hurling thy random bolts, offended truth 

Assign'd thee here thy station with the slaves 185 

Of folly. . Thy once formidable name 



OF IMAGINATION. 97 

Shall grace her humble records, and be heard 

In scoffs and mockery bandied from the lips 

Of all the vengeful brotherhood around, 

So oft the patient victims of thy scorn. ISO 

But now, ye gay ! to whom indulgent fate, 
Of all the Muses' empire hath assign'd 
The fields of folly, hither each advance 
Your sickles ; here the teeming soil affords 
Its richest growth. A favourite brood appears ; 1$5 
In whom -the daemon, with a mother's joy, 
Views all her charms reflected, all her cares 
At full repaid. Ye most illustrious band ! 
Who, scorning reason's tame, pedantic rules, 
And order's vulgar bondage, never meant 200 

For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal 
Pay Vice the reverence Virtue long usurp'd, 
And yield Deformity the fond applause 
Which Beauty wont to claim ; forgive my song* 
That for the blushing diffidence of youth, 205 

It shuns the unequal province of your praise. 



V& THE PLEASURES 

Thus far triumphant in the pleasing guile 
Of bland imagination, folly's train 
Havedar'd our search: but now a dastard-kind 
Advance reluctant, and with faultering feet 210 

Shrink from the gazer's eye : enfeebled hearts 
Whom Fancy chills with visionary fears, 
Or bends to servile tameness with conceits', 
Of shame, of evil, or of base defect, 
Fantastic and delusive. Here the slave 215 

Who drops abash'd when sullen pomp surveys 
His humbler habit \ here the trembling wretch 
Unnerv'd and struck with terror's icy bolts, 
Spent in weak wailings, drown'd in shameful tears, 
At every dream of danger ; here subdu'd 220 

By frontless laughter and the hardy scorn 
Of old, unfeeling vice, the abject soul, 
Who blushing half resigns the candid praise 
Of temperance and honour ; half disowns 
A freeman's hatred of tyrannic pride ; 225 

And hears with sickly smiles the venal mouth 
With foulest licence mock the patriot's name. 



off Imagination. 99 

M 

Last of the motley bands on whom the power 
Of gay derision bends her hostile aim. 
Is that where shameful ignorance presides. 230 

Beneath her sordid banners, lo ! they march, 
Like blind and lame. Whate'er their doubtful hands 
Attempt, confusion straight appears behind. 
And troubles all the work. Through many amaze, 
Perplex' d they struggle, changing every path, 235 
O'erturning every purpose ; then at last 
Sit down dismayed, and leave the entangled scene 
For scorn to sport with. Such then is the abode 
Of Folly in the mind ; and such the shapes 
In which she governs her obsequious train* 24Q 

Through every scene of ridicule in things 
To lead the tenor of my devious lay ; 
Through every swift occasion which the hand 
Of laughter points at, when the mirthful sting 
Distends her sallying nerves and choaks her tongue ^ 
What were it but to count each crystal drop 24® 



100 Tilt: PLEASURES 

Which Morning's dewy fingers on the blooms 
Of May distil ? Suffice it to have said, 
Where'er the power of ridicule displays 
Her quaint-ey r d visage, some incongruous form, 250 
Some stubborn dissonance of things combin'd 
Strikes on the quick observer : whether Pomp, 
Or Praise, or Beauty, mix their partial claim 
Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, 
Where foul deformity, are wont to dwell ; 255 

Or whether these with violation loath'd, 
Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, 
The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise* 

Ask we for what fair end, the Almighty Sire 
In mortal bosoms wakes this gay contempt, 260 
These grateful stings of laughter, from disgust 
Educing pleasure^? Wherefore but to aid 
The tardy steps of reason, and at once 
By this prompt impulse urge us to depress 
The giddy aims of folly ?. Though the light 2C5 



OF IMAGINATION". 101 

Of Truth slow dawning on the inquiring mindy 
At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie r 
How these uncouth disorders end at last 
In public evil ! yet benignant Heaven, 
Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears 270 
To thousands ;. conscious what a scanty pause 
From labours and from care, the wider lot 
Of humble life affords for studious thought 
To scan the maze of nature ; therefore stamp'd 
The glaring scenes with characters of scorn, 275 

As broad, as obvious, to the passing clown, 
As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. 

Such are the various aspects of the mind — 
Some heavenly genius, whose unclouded thoughts 
Attain that secret harmony which blends 280 

The aetherial spirit with its mould of clay ; 
Oh ! teach me to reveal the grateful charm 
That searchless Nature o'er the sense of man 
Diffuses, to behold, in lifeless things, 



102 THE PLEASURES 

The inexpressive semblance of himself, 285 

Of thought and passion. Mark the sable woods 
That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow ; 
With what religious awe the solemn scene 
Commands your steps ! as if the reverend form 
Of Minos or of Numa should forsake 290 

The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade 
Move to your pausing eye ! Behold the expanse 
Of yon gay landscape, where the silver clouds 
Flit o'er the heavens before the sprightly breeze : 
Now their grey cincture skirts the doubtful sun; 
Now streams of splendor, through their opening veil 
Effulgent, sweep from off the gilded lawn 
The aerial shadows ; on the curling brook. 
And on the shady margin's quivering leaves 
With quickest lustre glancing, while you view 306 
The prospect, say, within your cheerful breast 
Plays not the lively sense of winning mirth 
With clouds and sun-shine chequer'd, while the round 
Of .social converse, to the inspiring tonguo 



©* IMAGINATION. 103 

Of some gay nymph amid her subject train, 305 
Moves all obsequious ? Whence is this effect, 
This kindred power of such discordant things ? 
Or flows their semblance from that mystic tone 
To which the new-born mind's harmonious powers 
At first were strung? Or rather from the links 310 
Which artful custom twines around her frame ? 

For when the different images of things 
By chance combin'd, have struck the attentive soul 
With deeper impulse, or, connected long. 
Have drawn her frequent eye ; howe'er distinct 315 
The external scenes, yet oft the ideas gain 
From that conjunction an eternal tie, 
And sympathy unbroken. Let the mind 
Recall one partner of the various league, 
Immediate, lo ! the firm confederates rise, 320 

And each his former station straight resumes : 
One movement governs the consenting throng. 
And all at once with rosy pleasure shine, 



104 THE PLEASURES 

Or all are sadden'd with the glooms of care. 
'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, 325 
Two faithful needles, from the informing touch 
Of the same parent-stone, together drew 
Its mystic virtue, and at first conspir'd 
"With fatal impulse quivering to the pole: 
Then tho' disjoint! by kingdoms tho' the main 
RolPd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars 331 
Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved 
The former friendship, and remember'd still 
The alliance of their birth: whate'cr the line 
Which one possess'd, nor pause, nor quiet knew 335 
The sure associate, ere with trembling speed 
He found its path, and fixed unerring there. 
Such is the secret union, when we feel 
A song, a flower, a name, at once restore 339 

Those long- connected scenes where first they mov'd 
The attention : backward through her mazy walks 
Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope, 
To temples, courts^ or fields ; with all the band 



OF IMAGINATION-. 105 

Of painted forms, of passions and designs 
Attendant : whence, if pleasing in itself, 345 

The prospect from that sweet accession gains 
Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. 

By these mysterious ties the busy power 
Of memory her ideal train preserves 
Entire; or when they would elude her watch, 350 
Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste 
Of dark oblivion ; thus collecting all 
The various forms of being to present. 
Before the curious aim of mimic art, 
Their largest choice : like spring's unfolded blooms 
Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee 356 

May taste at will, from their selected s poils 
To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse 
Of living lakes in summer's noon-tide claim, 
Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens 
With fairer semblance ; not the sculptur'd gold 361 
More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace 3 



106 THE PLEASURES 

Than he whose birth the sister powers of art 
Propitious view'd, and from his genial star 
Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind ; 365 
Than his attempered bosom must preserve 
The seal of Nature. There along unchang'd, 
Her form remains. The balmy walks of May 
There breathe perennial sweets : the trembling chord 
Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, 370 

Melodious : and the virgin's radiant eye, 
Superior to disease, to grief, and time. 
Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length 
Endow 'd with all that nature can bestow. 
The child of fancy oft in silence bends 375 

O'er these mixt treasures of his pregnant breast, 
With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves 
To frame he knows not what excelling things ; 
And win he knows not what sublime reward 
Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind 380 
Feels her young nerves dilate : the plastic powers 
Labour for action : blind emotions heave 



OF IMAGINATION. 107 

His bosom ; and with loveliest frenzy caught, 

From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, 

From heaven to earth. Anon ten thou and shapes,. 

Like specters trooping to the wizard's call, 386 

Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, 

From ocean's bed they come : the eternal heavens 

Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss 

Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze 390 

He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares 

Their different forms ; now blends them, now divides, 

Enlarges, and extenuates by turns ; 

Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands, 

And infinitely varies. Hither now, 395 

Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, 

With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan 

Begins to open. Lucid order daw r ns ; 

And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds 

Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd 400 

Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd 

Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sua 



108 THE PLEASURES 

Sprung up the blue serene ; by swift degrees 

Thus disentangled, his entire design 

Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, 405 

And lines converge : the fainter parts retire : 

The fairer eminent in light advance ; 

And every image on its neighbour smiles. 

Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy 

Contemplates. Then with Promethean art, 410 

Into its proper vehicle he breathes 

The fair conception ; which, embodied thus, 

And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears 

An object ascertain'd; while thus inform'd. 

The various organs of his mimic skill, 415 

The consonance of sounds, the featur'd rock, 

The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, 

Beyond their proper powers attract the soul 

By that expressive semblance, while in sight 

Of Nature's great original we scan 420 

The lively child of art ; while line by line, 

And feature after feature we refer 



OF IMAGINATION. -109 

To that sublime exemplar whence it stole 
Those animating charms. Thus beauty's palm 
Betwixt them wavering hangs : applauding love 425 
Doubts where to choose ; and mortal man aspires 
To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud 
Of gathering hail with limpid crusts of ice 
Enclos'd and obvious to the beaming sun, 
Collects his large effulgence ; straight the heavens 
With equal flames present on either hand 431 

The radiant visage : Persia stands at gaze, 
Appall'd ; and on the brink of Ganges doubts 
The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, 
To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, 435 
To which his warbled orisons ascend. 

Such various bliss the well-tun'd heart enjoys, 
Favour'd of heaven! while, plung'd in sordid cares^ 
The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine : 
And harsh austerity, from whose rebuke 440 

Young love and smiling wonder shrink away 



110 THE PLEASURES 

Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns 

Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, 

Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge 

Casts a disdainful eye ; and calls my toil, 445 

And calls the love and beauty which I sing. 

The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor ! say, 

Is beauty then a dream, because the glooms 

Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, 

To let her shine upon thee? So the man 450 

Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, 

Might smile with scorn while raptur'd vision tells 

Of the gay-colour' d radiance flushing bright 

O'er all creation. From the wise be iar 454 

Such gross unhallow'xl pride; nor needs my song 

Descend so low ; but rather now unfold, 

If human thought could reach, or worlds unfold, 

By what mysterious fabric of the mind, 

The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound 

Result from airy motion ; and from shape 460 

The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. 



OF IMAGINATION. Til 

By what fine ties hath God connected things 

When present in the mind, which in themselves 

Have no connection ? Sure the rising sun 

O'er the coeruleart convex of the sea, 465 

With equal brightness, and with equal warmth 

Might roll his fiery orb ; nor yet the soul 

Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers 

Exulting in the splendor she beholds; 

Like a young conqueror moving thro' the pomp 

Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, 471 

Soft- murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath 

Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain 

Attemper, could not man's discerning ear 

Through all its tones the sympathy pursue ; 475 

Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy 

Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd hearty 

Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song. 

But wjre not Nature still endow'd at large 
With all which life requires, tho' unadorn'd 480 
h 2 



1M THE PLEASURES 

Wich such enchantmen t ? Wherefore then her form 

So exquisitely fair ! her breath perfum'd 

With suclf aetherial sweetness ? whence her voice 

Inform' d at will to raise or to depress 

The inipassion'd soul ? and whence the robes of light 

Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp 486 

Than fancy can describe ? Whence but from thee, 

O Source divine of ever-flowing love," 

And thy unmeasur'd goodness ? Not content 

With every food -of life to nourish man, 490 

By kind illusions of the wondering sense 

Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, 

Or music to his ear : well-pleas'd he scans 

The goodly prospect; and with inward smiles 

Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain ; 495 

Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, 

And living lamps that over-arch his head 

With more than regal splendor; bends his ears 

To the full choir of water, air, and earth ; 

Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 



OF IMAGINATIONS M& 

Nor doubts the painted green or azure\ arch, 

Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds 

Than space, or motion, or eternal time ; 

So sweet he feels their influence to attract 

The fixed soul ; to brighten the dull glooms 50& 

Of care, and make the destin'd road of life 

Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, - 

The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, 

Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells 

Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510. 

A visionary paradise disclos'd 

Amid the dubious wild : with streams, and shades,. 

And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, 

Cheers his long labours and renews his frame, 

What then is taste, but these internal powers 515 
Active, and strong, and feelingly alive 
To each fine impulse? a discerning sense 
Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust 
From things deform'd, or disarrang'd, or gross 



114' THE PLEASURES 

In species? Tfiis, .nor gems, nor stores of gold, 520 

Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow ; 

But God alone, when first his active hand 

Imprints the secret bias of the soul. 

He, mighty parent! wise and just in all, 

Eree as the vital breeze or light of heaven, 525 

Reveals the charms of Nature* Ask the swain 

Who journeys homeward from a summer-day's 

Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils 

And due repose, he loiters to behold 

The sun-shine gleaming as thro' amber clouds, 5 30 

G'er all the western sky ; full soon, I ween, 

His rude expression and untutor'd airs. 

Beyond the power of language, will unfold 

The form of beauty smiling at his heart, 

How lovely ! how commanding ! But tho' heaven 

In every breast hath sown these early seeds 53Q 

Of love and admiration, yet in vain, 

Without fair Culture's kind parental aid, 

Without enlivening suns, and genial showers,. 



OF IMAGINATION* 1 1 5 

And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 540 

The tender plant should rear its blooming head. 

Or yield the hardest promis'd in its spring. 

Nor yet will every soil with equal stores 

Repay the tiller's labour ; or attend 

His will, obsequious, whether to produce 545 

The olive or the laurel* Differeut minds 

Incline to different objects : one pursues 

The vast alone, the wonderful,, the wild ; 

Another sighs for harmony, and grace, 549 

And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 

The arch, of heaven, and thunders rock the ground^ 

When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, 

And Ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, 

Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky ; 

Amid the mighty uproar, while below 555 

The nations tremble, Shakespear looks abroad 

From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys 

The elemental war. But Waller longs, 

All on the margin of some flowery stream 



116 THE PLEASURES;^ 

To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 

Of plantain shades, and to the listening deer 
The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain 
Resound soft-warbling, all the live-long day : 
Consenting Zephyr sighs ; the weeping rill 564 , 

Joins in his plaint, melodious ; mute the groves ; 
And hili and dale with all their echoes mourn. 
Such and so various are the tastes of men. 

Oh! blest of heaven, whom not the languid songs 
Of luxury, the syren ! not the bribes 
Of sordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 

Of pageant honour can seduce to leave 
Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the storo 
Of Nature fair imagination culls 
To charm the enliven ? d soul ! What tho' not all 
Of mortal offspring can attain the heights 575 

Of envied life ; though only few possess 
Patrician treasures of imperial state? 
Yet Nature's 'rare, to all her child? on just. 



OB IMAGINATrra, 117" 

With richer treasures and an ampler state 

Endows at large whatever happy man 580 

Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp. 

The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns 

The princely dome, the column and the arch. 

The breathing marbles and the sculptur'd gold, 

Beyond the proud possessor's narraw claim, 585 

His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring .u 

Distils her dews, and from the silken gem 'd 

Its lucid leaves unfolds : for him, the hand -—" 

Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch _ 

With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn. 590 

Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings ; 

And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, 

And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze 

Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes 

The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain 595 

From all the tenants of the warbling shade 

Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake 

Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes 



118 THE PLEASURES 

Fresh pleasure only: for the attentive mind, 

By this harmonious action on her powers 600 

Becomes herself harmonious : wont so oft 

In outward things to meditate the charm 

Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home 

To find a kindred order, to exert 

Within herself this elegance of love, 605 

This fair inspired delight : her tempered powers 

Refine at length, and every passion wears 

A chaster,, milder,, more attractive mien. 

But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze 

On Nature's form, where, negligent of all 610 

These lesser graces, she assumes the port 

Of that eternal Majesty that weigh'd 

The world's foundations, if to these the mind 

Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far 614 

Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms 

Of servile custom cramp her generous powers ? 

Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth 

Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down 



OB IMAGINATION. 119 

To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? 

Lol she appeals to Nature, to the winds 620- 

And roiling waves, . the sun's unwearied course, 

The elements and seasons : all declare 

For what the eternal Maker has ordain'd 

The powers of man: we feel within ourselves 

His energy divine : he tells the heart, 62& 

He meant^ he made us to behold and love 

What he beholds and loves, the general orb 

Of life and being; to be great like him, 

Beneficent and active. Thus the men 

Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself * 

Hold converse ;.grow familiar, day by day, 63 1 

With his conceptions ; act upon his plan : 

And form to,his, the relish of their souls.. 



NOTES 



FIRST BOOK. 



Ver. .151. Say, why was man, Sec, 

J.N apologizing for the frequent negligences of ikt 
sublimest authors of Greece, " Those god-like 
u geniuses," says Longinus, ^ were well assured, 
** that Nature had not intended man for a low- 
ic spirited or ignoble being : but bringing us into 
u life and the midst of this wide universe, as before 
u a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, 
* ; that we might be spectators of all her magnifi* 
ic cence^ and candidates high in emulation for the 
u prize of glory ; she has therefore implanted in 



122 NOTES OS 

<c our souls an inextinguishable love of every thing 
u great and exalted, of every thing which appears 
(c divine beyond our comprehension. Whence it 
u comes to pass, that even the whole world is not 
<Q an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of 
Xi human imagination^ which often sallies forth be- 
* c yond the limits of all that surrounds us. Let 
u any man cast his eye through the whole circle of 
ci our existence, and consider how especially it 
u abounds in excellent and grand objects ; he will 
<i soon acknowledge for what enjoyments and pur. 
u suits we were destined. Thus by the very pro- 
(i pensity of Nature we are led to admire, not little 
f c springs or shallow rivulets, however clear and 
cc delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, 
" and, much more than all, the Ocean, &c." 
Dionys, Long, dcSublim. § xxiv. 

Ver. 202. The empyreal waste* 
f* Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand cspace 



THE FIRST BOOK, 123 

"au dela de la region des etoiles? Que se soit le 
iC ciel entpyree, ou non, toujours cet espace im. 
" mense qui environne toute eette 'region, pourra 
u etre rempli de bonheur et de gloire. II pourra 
" etre concu comme Pocean, ou se rendent les 
u fleuves de toutes les creatures bienheu reuses, 
iC quand elles seront venues a luer perfection dans 
" le systeme des etoiles." Leibnitz dans la 
Theodicee, part i. § 19. 

Ver. 204. Whose unfading light, 8zc. 
It was a notion of the great Mr. Huygens, that 
there may be fixed stars- at such a distance from our 
solar system, as that their light should not have had 
time to reach us, even from the creation of the 
"World to this day. 

Ver. 234. the neglect 

Of all familiar prospects^ &c. 
It is here said, that in consequence of the lore 



124 NOTES 0» 

of novelty, objects which at first were highly delight- 
ful to the mind, lose that effect by repeated attention 
to them. But the instance of habit is opposed to 
this observation ; for there ^ objects at first distaste- 
ful are in time rendered entirely agreeable by repeat- 
ed attention. 

The difficulty in this case will be removed, if we 
consider, that, when objects at first agreeable, lose 
that influence by frequently recurring, the mind is 
wholly passive^ and the perception involuntary ; but 
habit, on the other hand, generally supposes choice 
and activity accompanying it : so that the pleasure 
arises here not from the object, but from the mind's 
conscious determination of its own activity ; and 
consequently increases in proportion to the frequency 
of that determination. 

It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity 

with disagreeable objects renders them at length 
acceptable, even when there is no room for the 
mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the ap- 
pearance must be accounted for, one of these ways. 



THE FIRST BOOK. 125 

The pleasure from habit may be merely negitive. 
The object at first gave uneasiness : this uneasiness 
gradually wears off as the object grows familiar: 
and the mind, finding it at last entirely removed, 
reckons its situation really pleasureable, compared 
with what it had experienced before. 

The dislike conceived of the object at first, might 
be owing to prejudice or want of attention. Con- 
sequently the mind, being necessitated to review it 
often, may at length perceive its own mistake, and 
be reconciled to what it had looked on -with aver- 
sion. In which case, a sort of instinctive justice 
»aturalJy leads it to make amends for the injury, by 
running toward the other extreme of fondness and 
attachment. 

Or lastly, though the object itself should always 
continue disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure 
©r good fortune may occur along with it. Thus 
an association may arise in the mind, and the object 
©ever be remembered without those pleasing cir- 

M 



126 NOTES ON 

cumstances attending it ; by which means the dis- 
agreeable impression which it at first occasioned 
will in time be quite obliterated* 

Ver. 240. this desire 

Of objects new and strange 

These two ideas are often confounded ; though 
it is evident the mere novelty of an object makes it 
agreeable, even where the mind is not affected with 
the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed 
always implies novelty, being never excited by com. 
snon or well-known appearances. But the pleasure 
in both cases is explicable from the same final cause, 
the acquisition of knowledge and enlargement of 
our views of Nature ; on this account, it is natural 
to treat of them together. 

Ver. 374. Truth and good are one, 

Andbeauty dzoells in them, &c. 
46 Do you imagine," say Socrates to Arsitippus, 



THE FIRST BOOK. 127 

u that what is good is not beautiful ? Have you 
u not observed that these appearances always coin- 
4i cide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect 
4i as to which we call it good, is ever acknowledged 
*' to be beautiful also. In the characters of men 
ft we always * join the two denominations together. 
4i The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in 
u like manner, with that ceconomy of parts which 
*' constitutes them good; and in every circum- 
u stance of life the same object is constantly ac- 
u counted both beautiful and good, inasmuch as it 
u answers the purposes for which it was designed." 
Xenophont. Memorab. Socrat. 1. iii. c. 8. 

This excellent observation has been illustrated 
and extended by the noble restorer of ancient phi- 
losophy : see the Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 339 and 
422; and vol. iii. p. 181. And another ingenious 

* This the Athenians did in a particular manner, by the 
word HaKoiiafaQh, HahoKafuQU. 

M 2 



128 NOTES ON 

author has particularly shewn, that it holds in tire 
general laws of Nature, in the works of art, and the 
conduct of the sciences : Inquiry into the Original of 
our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, Treat, i. § 8. As 
to the connection between beauty and truth, there 
are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers 
assert an independent and invariable law in Nature, 
in consequence of which u all rational beings must 
u alike perceive beauty in some certain propor- 
a tions, and deformity in the contrary." And this 
necessity being supposed the same with that which 
commands the assent or dissent of the understanding, 
it follows of course that beauty is founded on tins 
universal and unchangeable law of truth. 

But others there are, w ho believe beauty to be 
merely a relative and arbitrary thing ; that indeed it 
was a benevolent provision in Nature to annex so 
delightful a sensation to those objects which are best 
and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be 
engaged to the choice of them at once, and without 



THE FIRST BOOK. 129 

staying to infer their usefulness from their structure 
and effects ; but that it is not impossible, in a phy- 
sical sense, that two beings, of equal capacities for 
truth 5 should perceive, one of them beauty y and the 
other deformity, in the same proportions. And upoa 
this supposition, by that truth which is always con. 
nected with beauty, nothing more can be meant than 
the conformity of any object to those proportions 
upon which, after careful examination, the beauty 
of thaj: species is found to depend* Polycletus, for 
instance, a famous ancient sculptor, from an accurate 
mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect 

human bodies, deduced a canon or system of pro- 
portions, which was the rule of all succeeding artists. 

Suppose a statue modelled according to this : a man 
of mere natural taste, upon looking at it, without 
entering into its proportions, confesses and admires 
its beauty : whereas a professor of the art applies 
his measures to the head, the neck, or the hand, 
and, without attending to its beauty, pronounces 
the workmanship to be just and true* 



ISO NOTES OS 

Ver. 492. As when Brutus rose % &c. 
Cicero himself describes this fact — iC Caesare 
u interfecto — statim cruentum alte extollens M. 
u Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim excla- 
u mavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatcm est gratu- 
"latus." Cic Phillipp. ii. 12. 

Ver. 548. Where virtue rising from the awful depth 
Of truth's mysterious bosom^ &c. 
According to the opinion of those who assert 
moral obligation to be founded on an immutable and 
universal law ; and that which is usually called the 
moral sense y to be determined by the peculiar tem- 
per of the imagination and earliest associations 
of ideas. 

Ver. 591. Lyceum. 
The school of Aristotle* 



THE FIRST BOOK. ♦ 131 



Ver. 592. Academus* 
The school of Plato. 

Ver. 594. Ilyssus. 
One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. 
Plato, in some of his finest dialogues, lays the scene 
of conversation with Socrates on its banks. 



NOTES 



SECOND BOOK. 



Yer. 19. At last the Muses rose, &e. 

ixBOUT the age of Hugh Capet, founder of the 
third race of French kings, the poets of Provence 
were in high reputation ; a sort of strolling bards 
or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes 
and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with 
music and poetry. They attempted both the epic 
ode, and satire; and abounded in a wild and fantastic 
vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly founded 
on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These 
were the rudiments of Italian poetry. But their 
4aste uncj composition must have been extremely 



134 NOTES ON 

barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed 
the turn of their fable in much politer times; such 
as Boiardo, Bernardo, Tasso, Ariosto, &c. 

Ver. 21. Valclusa. 
The famous retreat of Francisco Petrarcha, the 
father of Italian poetry, and his mistress Laura, a 
lady of Avignon. 

Ver. 22. Amo. 
The river which runs by Florence, the birth- 
place of Dante and Boccacio. 

Ver. 23. Partkenope* 
Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The 
great Torquato Tasso was born at Sorrento, in the 
kingdom of Naples. 

Ver. 23. the rage 

Of dire ambition, &c. 
This relates to the cruel wars among the repub* 



THE SECOND BOOK. 135= 

lies of Italy, and abominable politics of its little 
princes, about the fifteenth century. These at last ? 
in conjunction with the Papal power, entirely ex- 
tinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and 
established that abuse of the fine arts which has 
been since propagated over all Europe* 

Ver. 30. Thus from their guardians torn, Sec. 

Nor were they only losers by the separation. For 
philosophy itself, to use the words of a noble phi- 
losopher, u being thus severed by the sprightly arts 
u and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, 
w insipid^ pedantic, useless, and directly opposite 
" to the real knowledge and practice of the world." 
Insomuch that u a Gentleman," says another excel- 
lent writer, a cannot easily bring himself to like so 
a austere and ungainly a form $ so greatly is it 
4 < changed from what was once the delight of the 
u finest Gentlemen of antiquity, and their recrea- 
u tion after the hurry of public affairs !" From thi& 
condition it cannot be recovered but by uniting it 



J 30 



NOTES ON 



once more with the works of imagination ; and ws 
hare had the pleasure of observing a very great pro- 
gress made towards their union in England within 
these few years. It is hardly possible to conceive 
them at a greater distance from each other than at the 
Revolution, when Locke stood at the head of one 
party, and Dryden of the other. But the general 
spirit of liberty, which has ever since been growing, 
naturally invited our men of wit and genius to im- 
prove that influence which the arts of persuasion 
gave them with the people, by applying them to sub- 
jects of importance to society. Thus poetry and 
eloquence became considerable ; and philosophy is 
now of course obliged to borrow of their embellish- 
ments, in order even to gain audience with the 
public. 

Ver. 157. From Passion's pozcer alone, &c. 

This very mysterious kind of pleasure, which if 
often found in the exercise of passions generally 
counted painful, has been taken notice of by several 



THE SECOND BOOK. 



137 



authors. Lutretius resolves it into self-love : 

" Suave Mari magno," &c. lib. ii. 1. 
As if a man was never pleased in being moved at the 
distress of a tragedy, without a cool reflection that 
though these fictitious personages were so unhappy, 
yet he himself was perfectly at ease and in safety. 
The ingenious author of the Reflections Critiques sur 
le Poesie, Sf sur la Peinture^ accounts for it by the 
general delight which the mind takes in its own 
activity, and the abhorrence it feels of an indolent 
and inattentive state : and this, joined with the 
moral approbation of its own temper, which attends 
these emotions when natural and just, is certainly 
the true foundation of the pleasure, which, as it is 
the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, deserved a 
very particular consideration in this poem. 

Ver. 304, Inhabitant of earthy Sec. 
The account of the ceconomy of Providence here 
introduced, as the most proper to calm and satisfy 



138 NOTES ON 

the mind when under the compunction of private 
evils, seems to have come originally from the Py- 
thagorean school : l)ut of the ancient philosophers, 
Plato has most largely insisted upon it, has established 
it with all the strength of his capacious understand- 
ing, and ennobled it with all the magnificence of his 
cdivine imagination. He has one passage so full and 
clear on this head, that I am persuaded the reader 
will be pleased to see it here, though somewhat long. 
Addressing himself to such as are not satisfied con- 
cerning Divine Providence : u The Being who pre- 
" sides over the whole," says he, " has disposed and 
46 complicated all things for the happiness and vir- 
46 tue of the whole, every part of which, according 
4C to the extent of its influence, does and suffers 
46 what is fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, 
4C O unhappy man, which though in itself most in- 
4C considerable and minute, yet being connected with 
44 the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that 
" supreme order. You in the mean time are igno- 



THE SECOND BOOK, 139 

* c rant of the very end for which all particular 
" natures are brought into existence, that the all- 
€c comprehending nature of the whole may be per- 
" feet and happy ; existing as it does, not for your 
u sake, but the cause and reason of your existence, 
u which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, 
4C must of necessity concur with the general design 
u of the artist, and be subservient to the whole of 
* c which it is a part. Your complaint therefore is 
ff ignorant and groundless ; since, according to the 
? 4 various energy of creation, and the common laws 
u of Nature, there is a constant provision of that 
u which is best at the same time for you and for the 
H whole. — For the governing Intelligence clearly 
46 beholding all the actions of animated and self- 
46 moving creatures, and that mixture of good and 
4i evil which diversifies them, considered first of all 
4i by what disposition of things, and by what situ- 
4i ation of each individual in the general system, 
& vice might be depressed and subdued, and virtue 



140 NOTES ON 

* made secure of victory and happiness, with the 
" greatest facility, and in the highest degree possible: 
u In this manner he ordered through the entire cir- 
u cle of being, the internal constitution of every 
u mind, where should be its station in the universal 
u fabric, and through what variety of circumstances 
u it should proceed in the whole tenour of its 
u existence." He goes on in his sublime manner 
to assert a future state of retribution, u as well for 
M those who, by the exercise of good dispositions 
u being harmonized and assimilated into the divine 
ic virtue, are consequently removed to a place of 
" unblemished sanctity and happiness; as of those 
* c who by the most flagitious arts have risen from 
u contemptible beginnings to the greatest affluence 
iC and power, and whom you therefore look upon 
u as unanswerable instances of negligence in the 
iC gods, because you arc ignorant of the purposes 
<c to which they are subservient, and in what man- 
iC ner they contribute to that supreme intention of 
Ci good to the whole." Plato de Leg. x» 16. 



THE SECOND BOOK. 141 

This theory has been delivered of late, especially 
abroad, in a manner which subverts the freedom of 
human actions ; whereas Plato appears very careful 
to preserve it, and has been in that respect imitated 
by the best of his followers. 

Ver. 321. one might rise, 

One order , &c. 
See the Meditations of Antoninus, and the Cha- 
racteristics, passim. 

Ver, 355, The best and fairest, &c. 
This opinion is so old, that Timseus Locrus calls 
the Supreme Being ^^tapyos rw 0ekrtov^ 9 u the 
u artificer of that which is best j" and represents him 
as resolving in the beginning to produce the most 
excellent work, and as copying the world most 
exactly from his own intelligible and essential idea ; 
" so that it yet remains, as it was at first, perfect 
u in beauty, and will never stand in need of any 
N 



142 NOTES ON THE SECOND BOOK. 

u correction or improvement." There can be no 
room for a caution here, to understand the expres- 
sions, not of any particular circumstances of human 
life separately considered, but of the sum of univer- 
sal system of life and being. See also the vision at 
the end of the Theodicee of Leibnitz. 

Ver. 305. As flame ascends, &c. 
This opinion, though not held by Plato nor any 
of the ancients, is yet a very natural consequence of 
his principles. But the disquisition is too complex 
and extensive to be entered upon here. 

Ver. 755. Philip. 
The Macedonian. 



NOTES 

ON THE 

THIRD BOOK. 

Ver. 18. Where the powers 

Of Fancy, &c. 

J. HE influence of the Imagination on the conduct 
of life, is one of the most important points in moral 
philosophy. It were easy by an induction of facts 
to prove that the Imagination directs almost all the 
passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance 
of action or pleasure. Let any man, even of the 
coldest head and soberest industry, analyse the idea 
of what he calls his interest; he will find that it 
consists chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, 
and order, variously combined into one system, the 
idol which he seeks to enjoy by labour, hazard, and 
n 2 



144 NOTES ON 

self-denial. It is on this account of the last conse- 
quence io regulate these images by the standard of 
Nature, and the general good ; otherwise the imagi- 
nation, by heightening some objects beyond their 
real excellence and beauty, or by representing others 
in a more odious or terrible shape than they deserve, 
may of course engage us in pursuits utterly incon- 
sistent with the moral order of things. 

If it be objected that this account of things sup- 
poses the passions to be merely accidental, whereas 
there appears in some a natural and hereditary dis- 
position to certain passions prior to all circumstances 
of education or fortune ; it may be answered, that 
though no man is born ambitious or a miser^ yet he 
may inherit from his parents a peculiar temper or 
complexion of mind, which shall render his imagina- 
tion more liable to be struck with some particular 
objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions 
of good and ill, and entertain passions of a par- 
ticular turn. Some men, for instance, by the 



THE THIRD BOOK. 145 

original frame of their minds, are more delighted 
with the vast and magnificent; others, on the con- 
trary, with the elegant and gentle aspects of Nature. 
And it is very remarkable, that the disposition of the 
moral powers is always similar to this of the Ima- 
gination ; that those who are most inclined to admire 
prodigious and sublime objects in the physical world, 
are also most inclined to applaud examples of for- 
titude and heroic virtue in the moral. While those 
who are charmed rather with the delicacy and sweet- 
ness of colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail 
in like manner to yield the preference to the softer 
scenes of virtue, and the sympathies of a domestic 
life. And this is sufficient to account for the 
objection. 

Among the ancient philosophers though we have 
several hints concerning this influence of the Ima- 
gination upon the morals among the remains of the 
Socratic sehool,yet the Stoics were the first who paid 
it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought 



146 NOTES ON 

it impossible to preserve any tolerable regularity in 
life, without frequently inspecting those Pictures or 
appearances of things, which the imagination offers 
to the mind (Diog. Laert. 1. vii.) The meditations 
of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, 
are full of the same sentiment ; insomuch that the 
latter makes the Xfio-is da, &7 <pavW/£v, or " right 
u management of the fancies^" the only thing for 
which we are accountable to Providence, and with- 
out which a man is no other than stupid or frantic. 
Arrian. 1. i. c. 12. & 1. ii. c. 22. See also the 
Characteristics, vol. i. from p. 313 to 321, where 
this Stoical doctrine is embellished with all the 
elegance and graces of Plato. 

Ver. 75. how Folios awkzcard arts, &c» 

Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule 
on private and civil life, as well as on learning and 
the sciences, it has been almost constantly neglected 
or misrepresented by divines especially. The man- 



THE THIRD BOOK. 147 

ner of treating these subjects in th science of human 
nature, should be precisely the same as in natural 
philosophy ; from particular facts to investigate the 
stated order in which they appear, and then apply 
the general law, thus discovered, to the explication 
of other appearances, and the improvement of useful 
arts. 

Ver. 84. Behold the foremost band, &c. 
The first and most general source of ridicule in 
the characters of men, is vanity, or self-applause for 
some desirable quality or possession which evidently 
* does not belong to those who assume it. 

Ver. 121. Then comes the second order, Sec. 
Ridicule from the same vanity, where, though the 
possession be real, yet no merit can arise from it, 
because of some particular circumstances, which, 
though obvious to the spectator, are yet overlooked 
by the ridiculous character. 



148 NOTES ON 

Ver. 152. Another tribe succeeds, &c. 
Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular 
objects disproportioned to their intrinsic value, and 
inconsistent with the order of Nature* 

Ver. 191. But now, ye gay, &c. 
Ridicule from a notion of excellence, when the 
object is absolutely odious or contemptible. This is 
the highest degree of the ridiculous ; as in the affec- 
tation of diseases or vices. 

Ver. 207. Thus far triumphant, &c. 
Ridicule from false shame, or groundless fear, f 

Ver. 228. Last of the motley bands, &c. 
Ridicule from the ignorance of such things as our 
circumstances require us to know. 

Ver. 248. Suffice it to have said, &c. 
By comparing these general sources of ridicule 



THE THIRD BOOK. 149 

with each other, and examining the ridiculous in 
other objects, we may obtain a general definition of 
it, equally applicable to every species. The most 
important circumstance of this definition is laid 
down in the lines referred to ; but others more minute 
we shall subjoin here. Aristotle's account of the 
matter seems both imperfect and false : the ridi- 
culous is " some certain fault or turpitude without 
6C pain 9 and not destructive to its subject." (Poet* 
c. 5.) For allowing it to be true, asitis not, that the 
ridiculous is never accompanied with pain, yet we 
might produce many instances of such a fault or tur- 
pitude, which cannot with any tolerable propriety be 
called ridiculous. So that the definition does not 
distinguish the thing designed. Nay farther ; even 
when we perceive the turpitude tending to the de- 
struction of its subject, we may still be sensible of a 
ridiculous appearance, till the ruin become imminent, 
and the keener sensations of pity or terror banish the 
ludicrous apprehension from our minds. For the 



150 NOTES OS 

sensation of ridicule is not a bare perception of the 
agreement or disagreement of ideas ; but a passion or 
emotion of the mind consequential to that perception. 
So that the mind may perceive the agreement or dis- 
agreement, and yet not feel the ridiculous, because. it 
is engrossed by a more violent emotion. Thus it 
happens that some men think those objects ridiculous, 
to which others cannot endure to apply the name; 
because in them they excite a much intenser and 
more important feeling. And this difference, among 
other causes, has brought a good deal of confusion 
into this question. 

u That which makes objects ridiculous, is some 
w ground of admiration or esteem connected with 
u other more general circumstances comparatively 
u worthless or deformed ; or it is some circumstance 
u of turpitude or deformity connected with what is 
" in general excellent or beautiful : the inconsistent 
u properties existing either in the objects themselves, 
w or in the apprehension of the person to whom 



THE THIRD BOOK, 151 

u they relate ; belonging always to the same order 
16 or class of being; imply sentiment or design; and 
" exciting no acute or vehement emotion of the 
" heart." 

To prove the several parts of this definition : "The 
" appearance of excellency or beauty connected with 
Ci a general condition, comparatively sordid or 
u deformed," is ridiculous : for instance, pompous 
pretensions of wisdom joined with ignorance or folly 
in the Socrates of Aristophanes ; and the ostenta- 
tions of military glory with cowardice and stupidity 
in the Thraso of Terence. 

The appearance of deformity or turpitude in 
u conjunction with what is in general excellent or 
u venerable," is also ridiculous : for instance, the 
personal weakness of a magistrate appearing in the 
solemn and public functions of his station. 

u The incongruous properties may either exist in 
f f the objects themselves, or in apprehension of the 
" person to whom they relate :" in the last-men- 



152 NOTES ON 

tioned instance,they both exist in the objects ; in the 
instances from Aristophanes and Terence, one of 
them is objective and real, the other only founded in 
the apprehension of the ridiculous character. 

cc The inconsistent properties must belong to the 
i6 same order or class of being." A coxcomb in fine 
cloaths, bedaubed by accident in foul weather, is a 
ridiculous object ; because his general apprehension 
of excellence and esteem is referred to the splendour 
and expence of his dress. A man of sense and merit, 
in the same circumstances, is not counted ridiculous : 
because the general ground of excellence and esteem 
in him is, both in fact and in his own apprehension, 
of a very different species. 

a Every ridiculous object implies sentiment or 
cc design." A column placed by an architect without 
a capital or base, is laughed at : the same column in 
a ruin causes a very different sensation. 

And lastly, M the occurence must excite no acute 
16 or vehement emotion of the heart/' such as Terror^ 



THE THIRD BOOK. 153 

Pity, or Indignation ; for in that case, as was 
observed above, the mind is not at leisure to con- 
template the ridiculous, 

Ver. Z59. Ask we for what fair end, &c. 
Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that 
we have a natural sense or feeling of the ridiculous^ 
and since so good a reason may be assigned to justify 
the Supreme Being for bestowing it ; one cannot 
without astonishment reflect on the conduct of those 
men who imagine it is for the service of true religion 
to vilify and blacken it without distinction, and 
endeavour to persuade us that it is never applied but 
in a bad cause. Ridicule is not concerned with 
mere speculative truth or falsehood. It is not m 
abstract propositions or theorems, but in actions and 
passions, good and evil, beauty and deformity, that 
we find materials for it ; and all these terms are 
relative, implying approbation or blame. To ask 
them whether ridicule be a test of truth, 13, in other 



155 NOTES ON 

words, to ask whether that which is ridiculous can be 
morally true^ can be just and becoming; or whether 
that which is just and becoming, can be ridiculous ? 
A question that does not deserve a serious answer. 
For it is most evident, that, as in a metaphysical, 
proposition offered to the understanding for its 
assent, the faculty of reason examines the terms of 
the proposition, and finding one idea, which was sup- 
posed equal to another, to be in fact unequal, of 
consequence rejects the proposition as a falsehood ; 
so, in objects offered to the mind for its esteem and 
applause, the faculty of ridicule, finding an incon- 
gruity in the claim, urges the mind to reject it with 
laughter and contempt. When therefore, we observe 
such a claim obtruded upon mankind, and the 
inconsistent circumstances carefully concealed from 
the eye of the public, it is our business, if the matter 
be of importance to society, to drag out those 
latent circumstances, and, by setting them in full 
view, to convince the world how ridiculous the 



THE THIRD BOOK. 154 

claim is : and thus a double advantage is gained \ for 
we both detect the moral falsehood sooner than in the 
way of speculative inquiry, and impress the minds 
of men with a stronger sense of the vanity and error 
of its authors. And this and no more is meant by 
the application of ridicule. 

But it is said, the practice is dangerous, and may 
be inconsistent with the regard we owe to objects of 
real dignity and excellence. I answer, the practice 
fairly managed can never be dangerous ; men may 
be dishonest in obtruding circumstances foreign to 
the object, and we may be inadvertent in allowing 
those circumstances to impose upon us: but the sense 
of ridicule always judges right. The Socrates of 
Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as ever 
was drawn : — true ; but it is not the character of 
Socrates, the divine moralist and father of ancient 
wisdom. What then ? did the ridicule of the poet 
hinder the philosopher from detecting and disclaim^ 
ing those foreign circumstances which he had falsely 



156 NOTES ON 

introduced into his character, and thus rendered the 
satirist doubly ridiculous in his turn ? no ; but it 
nevertheless had an ill influence on the minds of the 
people. And so has the reasoning of Spinoza made 
many atheists : he has founded it indeed on suppo r 
sitions utterly false ; but allow him these, and his 
conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must 
reject the use of ridicule,because, by the imposition 
of false circumstances, things may be made to seem 
ridiculous, which are not so in themselves ; why 
we ought not in the same manner to reject the use of 
reason, because, by proceeding on false principles, 
conclusions will appear true which are impossible in 
Nature, let the vehement and obstinate declaimers 
against ridicule determine. 

Ver. 285. The inexpressive semblance, &c. 
This similitude is the foundation of almost all the 
ornaments of poetic diction. 



THE THIRD BOOK. 157 

Ver. 326. Two faithful needles^ &c. 
See the elegant poem recited by Cardinal Bembo, 
in the character oi Lucretius; Straba Prolufc. y'u 
Acadeni. 2. c. v. 

Ver. 348. By these mysterious ties, &c. 
The act of remembering seems almost wholly t% 
depend on the association of ideas. 

Ver. 411. Into its proper vehicle , &c. 
This relates to the different sorts of corporeal 
mediums, by which the ideas of the artists are ren- 
dered palpable to the senses ; as hy sounds in music ; 
by lines and shadows in painting \ by diction m 
poetry, &c. 

Ver. 547. One pursue? 

The vast alone, &c. 
See. the note on ver. 18 of this book, 
or 



158 NOTES ON 

Ver. 558. Waller longs, &c. 
u Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay 
" Under the plantain shade; and all the day 
u With amorous airs my fancy entertain, &c. 

Waller, Battle of Sum. Islands, Canto I. 
And again, 
" W T hile in the park I sing, the listening deer 
" Attend my passion, and forget to fear," &c. 

At Penshurst. 

Ver. 593. Not a breeze, &c. 
That this account may not appear rather poeti- 
cally extravagant than just in philosophy, it may 
be proper to produce the sentiment of one of the 
greatest, wisest, and best of men on this head ; one 
so little to be suspected of partiality in the case, 
that he reckons it among those favours for which 
he was especially thankful to the gods, that they 
tad not suffered him to make any great proficiency 



THE THIRD fiOOR. 159 

in the arts of eloquence and poetry, lest by that 
means he should have been diverted from pursuits 
of more importance to his high station. Speaking* 
of the beauty of universal Nature, he observes, that 
u there is a pleasing and graceful aspect in every 
u object we perceive," when once we consider its 
connection with that general order. He instances 
in many things which at first sight would be thought 
rather deformities; and then adds, "that a man who 
u enjoys a sensibility of temper, withajust compre- 
" hension of the universal order, will discern many 
u amiable things, not credible to every mind, hnt 
u to those alone who have entered into an honor* 
" able familiarity with Nature, and her works." — 
M. Antonin. iii. 2. 

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